


Bird cage - (hannigram)

by lizzyciel



Series: Ignis Arche Hannigram Series [1]
Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Alternative Universe - FBI, Cannibalism, Disguise, Hannibal is a Cannibal, Jealous Hannibal, M/M, Multi, Murder, Murder Family, Plot Twists, Possessive Hannibal, Will Knows, elaborate murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-07
Updated: 2016-10-20
Packaged: 2018-04-19 13:43:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 47
Words: 53,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4748534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizzyciel/pseuds/lizzyciel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will, after a few psychological breakdowns (because of the deaths of his psychiatrists), was persuaded by his friend and colleague Jack Crawford, after seeking for a psychiatrist that was willing to help the damaged detective.</p><p>But after the serial murders of his psychiatrists, no psychiatrist was willing to work with the broken Will. That is until Hannibal Lecter. . .</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ch.1 slipping out

Will, buried his features on the palm of his frigid hands. as Jack Crawford, looked at him with a dead-pan expression, removing his emotional involvements to the now visible serial case.

"Jack, It's my fault . . . I-I" Will said, painfully, as he peeked at the pictures of the crimes.

"No it's not Will, but someone is targeting you. We're looking at the possible suspects, right now" Jack said, standing up from his chair, waking past Will, to shut the glass door behind them.

"I want to take this case, Jack you have to let me in. . ." Will said, staring at the older man, tightening his grip on the horrific pictures piled in front of him, on top of Jack's glass table.

"You know I can't, you are a suspect and a victim here, you can't be part of the investigation." Jack uttered, as he blocked Will's view of the pictures.

". . . for now, I have something to discuss with you. If you really want to get back in the game. But you have to agree, with what I have to say. . . I've found you a new psychiatrist that is willing to work with you, he. . . " Jack explained while gesturing, but was immediately cut off by Will's complete retaliation with the idea.

"No! Stop Jack, I don't want to make the same mistake over and over again. I've had enough blood on my hands as is. . . " Will uttered, as he looked at his palms before fisting it close, as images of the crime scenes came to his mind, engraving it detail by detail in his sight and memory.

"You can't work without a shrink. you have no choice, do you want to find the killer or not? This is the only way I can let you in" Jack said bargaining with Will's conscience.

"You owe those people justice, you can't give it to them with out a companion, a shrink . . . That can check up on you, once in a while" Jack added, to Will's obvious discomfort.  
But what all the agent said were true factors that played in the mind of Will Graham. he first weighed his priorities thinking of another way, but none came to mind because there is no other choice.

". . . Alright, but you have to make sure he stays alive, at least long enough until i find the killer" Will said, in a hesitantly strained voice.

"Of course" Jack answered, a small smile playing on his lips.

"Wait a moment" he added, before bringing out his cell phone and dialing a number, he spoke whispers to the phone peeking every once in a while at the silent Will.

After a few minutes the call ended. placing the phone to its rightful place, at the right pocket of the agent's jacket. He sat back in his chair with an amused smile making Will cringe, at the possible mischief that it brought.

" . . . If there's nothing else, I have to go" Will said hurriedly picking up his coat, almost sprinting at to the door.

"Not so fast, sit!" Jack ordered, placing his hand on the chair that Will sat on moments ago.

Will reluctantly complied with the order and walked back to the seat, placing his weight on the leather recliner. A few moments after, a knock at the glass door caught the attention of the duo. A man peeking from the glass door, wore a white lab coat with a clip board tucked under his left arm.

"Come in" Jack called out, waving to enter.

"A Doctor Hannibal Lector, is waiting outside" The man said, combing his shaggy dark hair with the fingers of his right hand.

"Let him in, thanks Brian" Jack replied, making his smile more mischievous.

Brian left, and went back to the office, with two men following behind him. one wore the same lab coat as the said man, but had a lighter complexion and hair. The third man's face was blocked from the view of the two observing presence.

The three walked inside, that is when the third's appearance was revealed. high cheek bones, with maroon like eyes peering at the two seated men. His expensive looking three piece suit, accentuated his figure and straight posture. His dirty blonde hair, parted at the side. A true dapper in appearance. He was in a way breath taking, an image of true symmetry within the body of man, at least that is the roaming thoughts of Will Graham. The man gracefully walked to Jack, lifting his hand to offer a hand shake.

"A pleasure to meet you again, Agent Crawford" he said in a thick accented voice that sent shivers in Will's spine.

"As do you, Doctor Lecter . . . Thank you for coming in such a short notice. " Jack replied, shaking the hand.  
Will's ears perked up, at the sound of the word 'doctor', which made him flinch at the thought of the other victims.

"No worries Agent Crawford, I was happy to oblige with the introductory meeting." Hannibal said in a posh etiquette ridden statement.

"Will, this is doctor Hannibal Lecter a psychiatrist. . . He would be your 'companion' starting from today" Jack said introducing, the two strangers.  
Hannibal's eyes fell on the seated Will, and just smiled. Will became more frigid, feeling his cheeks burn, usually he would retaliate and struggle at the idea of another person taking care of him was quite stupid and uncomfortable.  
He did feel uncomfortable, but in a different sense. His mind drifted off, staring at the man called 'Hannibal'.

". . . ill . . . Will, are you there?" Jack shook Will back to reality.

"Sorry, i zoned out" he said making Hannibal smirk, making his discomfort worse.

"As I said, do you have any concerns or questions for Doctor Lecter?" Jack asked, looking expectantly at Will.

". . . I work with corpses and murder. where blood could fill a swimming pool, do you think you can handle that?" Will said, waiting patiently for a proper reply.

"I was a former surgeon, so I could at the very least, handle some blood and corpses" he said calmly.

"How good of a surgeon were you, to end up being a psychiatr-" Will was about to finish, but Jack's loud coughing stopped the supposed interview.  
The lab coat duo, came to save the situation, with horrific description of the recent murders.

"Have we told you guys about the new development? . . ." Brian uttered loudly, getting everyone's undivided attention.

"The bodies of the victims, had rope burns on their ankles and bruising around all the victims thighs, indicate they were hoisted upside down, and hung for a few hours, before bludgeoning the back of the head creating an indented portion causing a blood clot. after that, the killer silted the mouth open on both sides. . . We have a cause of death, but nothing explains the lack of blood on all the victims" the light haired Jimmy Price said, gesturing the slit.

Will looked intently at the Doctor's reaction, expecting it to be grossed out or scared or even both. but the doctor showed no sign of distress or disgust, just a calm expression resting on his face.

"Why are you not, disgusted or scared from hearing all that?" Will asked, in an interrogative tone, placing an uncomfortable silence once again that swept through the room.

"Dear William, you should fear the living more than the dead" Hannibal said, making a suggestive look that only Will could possibly decipher. but being astonished by the man's features, he did not see the upcoming threat that was leering it head.


	2. Ch. 2 crime scene

After the events at the office, a ring echoed through the four walls of the room. Jack picked up the telephone, as he heard the news.

"There's been a new victim . . ." Jack, said in a peculiar tone.

"How could that be? All my previous psychiatrists are dead. . . " Will announced to his dismay.

" . . . I know . . ." Jack said, creating a cold atmosphere.

"It looks like, He changed his MO, after finishing his old victims list" Jimmy said, painting a frown.

"Alright, let's go." Jack said, gesturing Will and the doctor.

"What about us?" Brian said, demanding to join the scene.

"You have more use here then, in field" Jack uttered, before passing the lab coat duo. The duo just looked at each other a bit disappointed, as they wanted some field work for a change of pace.

Hannibal and Will rode at the back seat, of a polished pickup truck, which the head agent drove and owned.

The road to the crime scene was rigged and dusty, creating muddy brown stripes at the sides of the black painted car.

They reached their horrid destination, as Jack pulled over and got out first.

"Stay in the car until I call you, I'll have a little look and see first" he said, as he slammed the driver's door shut.

"You've been staring for a while, William" the thick Lithuanian accent uttered, as the two were alone in the car.

Will blinked once, as he realized the situation. He looked down at his feet, feeling his heart's little tremble. he couldn't utter a single word, as he pursed his lips meekly. The doctor's burning gaze still fixated on him, minutes passed in silence as he had no answer to the forbidden question.

"Will! Doctor Lecter!" Jack, thankfully called out, knocking on the door. As it created an opportunity for escape.

"J-Jack is calling, we have to go" Will said stuttering.

The doctor just stepped out of the car, and tucked his coat on an arm. Will followed, using the door beside him.

Will took a deep breath of the moist air of the area, where the earthy smell was absolutely evident. Will enjoyed nature the most, as he lived mostly in isolation.

The three, walked across a rocky path, before entering a yellow taped area. investigators surrounded a specific area of plain dirt patch, that was unlike the others.

The light brown color, was darkened with drops of a moist red pigment. A hand stuck out from the middle of the patch, that carried the smell of death.

It was pale and violet veins popping by its wrist. Slowly, the investigators recovered the body that like the other victims,   had an odd lack of blood and laid on their right side, and eyes were gouged with a specific tool. A small circular mark, evident on the back of her left and right ear, but oddly it didn't have the previous silted mouth.

The previous report highlighted this, before the new report about the blood was discovered by the lab rats.

The victim was female with blonde hair, she was a heavy set and her lips in a constant shade of a pale violet. Her clothes were torn, and her legs nailed to each other, which was a new development in the torture surrounding the progressing serial crimes.

Jack handed the doctor and Will surgical gloves, to help inspect the body.

Will then laid his eyes on the body and recognized the lady, and regretting her involvement immensely.

"She-she was my elementary school teacher. . . " Will almost refusing to say.

"Tell me her name Will!" Jack demanded to speed the identification process.

"Her name is Diana, Diana Patricks" Will said immediately, placing his sweaty hands on his lap.

"Alright, now Will I know your shaken up but we have to find the killer, now do what you need to do" Jack said, as a minor encouragement to the shaken up Will, he then patted Will's shoulder before facing the other investigators.

"Alright everybody out! Now, Out!" He shouted making the others question his actions.

"I said out, didn't I!" He shouted again, finally making everyone move.

"William, do I have to go as well?" Hannibal asked, seeing as the other left.

"No, it's fine, you'll have to 'it' sooner or later" Will uttered, before kneeling down on one knee facing the body.

An imaginary pendulum swung with in Will's mind, erasing everything single recent detail on the scene.

"She struggled, pushing the killer out of the way. She ran and tripped, making the killer grab her ankles, pulling her back and stab her once at the back of the right ear, before exiting it on the left. . . this is my design"

Will uttered, before looking up to Hannibal, who wore a blank expression.

Hannibal put on his pair of surgical gloves, tilting the head of the victim to the opposite direction to inspect the said theory.

"One stab, it went through the victim's first vertebra, we now have a cause of death" Hannibal announced, looking at Will.

Will then gestured for Jack, and described the new found scenario.

" But why did he leave drops of evidence? And how did he extract the blood from here?" Jack question, looking for more information.

"The drops of blood was an accident, when he stabbed and pulled the tool out . . . Sorry, Jack I can't say anything more, just that he drained the blood in another place." Will said, careful with his words.

Jack went silent, looking intently on Will's expression, to see a crack of a lie but failed.

then the three walked back to the previous black painted car, and drove to the office. As they entered the vicinity Jack immediately wrote a report, as the other two finally conversed in a pleasant chat.

". . . Is that so" Hannibal replied, the honest description Will had of Jack.

"I would really like to invite you both to my house, for dinner tonight" Hannibal added gesturing Will and Jack.

"Sorry, but I gotta turn down the offer. I have a report to make and a wife waiting, I'll join you next time" Jack explained, with Hannibal nodding as a reply.

"What about you, William?" He asked, looking at the man's blue orbs.

"I can't turn down that offer" Will said, as he smiled to himself.

"Alright, shall we go?" Hannibal asked, turning to the door and chivalrously opening it.

"Goodbye agent Crawford, have a good day" Hannibal said, saying his goodbye.

"Bye Jack, see you tomorrow" Will said, as Jack just waved goodbye, to the two.

"Doctor Lecter, why do you always call me 'William', when Will is just fine" Will questioned, as they walked to the parking space put side the building.

"Because it's your name, William" Hannibal said, as he waltz near a classy vintage black painted Chrysler, that had silver railings.

Hannibal opened the front passenger seat, gesturing Will to enter, in which Will complied.

Hannibal walked around and entered the Driver's door, and seated himself.

They drove a few miles, from the office, going a few turns and halting at a few stoplights. the whole ride was silent. it was halfway of the drive, before Will realized he was in complete isolation with Hannibal.

This fact made his cheeks burn once again, as he watched Hannibal's every movement.

" . . . lliam. . . William, were here" Hannibal said, as he moved his face closer to Will, who was locked in a trance.

Will's eyes widened at the closeness of their face, as he immediately moved back making his head hit the car window.

Hannibal stepped out and walked to Will's door to open it. Unknown to Will, Hannibal wore a little smirk that he replaced with a kind smile, as he let the blue eyed man out.

The building was old, but beautiful in a way. It had maroon painted walls and an dark oak door. To Will, this was the time, he noticed they had passed black arrowed gates.

Hannibal opened the door, and directed Will inside. Will didn't respond, as his eyes roamed around, the manor like property.

Hannibal then tapped Will's shoulder with a hand, before whispering to his ear. . .

"Are you coming in?"

Making Will shiver at the contact.


	3. Ch. 3 dinner for two

Will entered the walls of the enchanting structure, as Hannibal guided the way to the dining hall.

Will felt nervous at the atmosphere of the said house, everything was in place but the off feeling followed him around.

Hannibal proceeded to take of his tan jacket and hung it, at the wooden hanger by the door frame. Will then felt obliged to do the same, revealing a maroon plaid long sleeve shirt.

Will stared at the well figured man, as he strode off to the kitchen near by.

"Please, feel comfortable" Hannibal said.

As Will observed classy looking wooden furnitures, that furnished the room. The table and chairs have similar carved designs of a song bird, perched on bamboo, with lilies sticking out.

the crystal chandelier, took Will's attention as it glowed, a slight tint of red, that won't be noticed by an ordinary citizen.

Hannibal then returned placing a sliver platter of grilled beef rolls and chicken liver pate with white truffles at the side. he then moved back a chair, he then coughed to grab Will's fascinated attention, and gestured for him to sit.

The tinge of anxiousness showed on Will's face as he seated himself, as Hannibal moved it forward to make the other closer to the table.

"The carvings are beautiful . . ." Will said as he looked down and touched the carvings.

"My aunt Murasaki, gave me this set to me as a gift when i moved here to the States" Hannibal said, looking endearingly at the old varnished furniture.

"So where are you from, exactly Doctor Lecter?" Will said, as he marveled the intricately designed, silverware. the spoon and fork's handle depicts embossed vines of ivies wrapping around the handle, in a slow form of dominance.

While the knife's design was much more delicate, roses blossoming with little thorns perched in an array at the curving stem.

The plates were plain, white glass, but it somehow managed to fit in this mish-mash, of modern and antiquities.

"I am a native Lithuanian. . . But I traveled, a lot as a growing boy, i even lived in France for a while with my Aunt and Uncle. . . "

Hannibal said, looking distant, like reminiscing the past.

"I see . . . " will said, as he noticed an abundance of affection for a certain Aunt, which he felt conflicted about.

hannibal walked back up to the kitchen, and brought out a bottle of Vosne-Romanee 1926, and poured it in two wine glasses.

The rich color reminiscent of fresh blood, the aroma of the refined grape was handed to the simple Will.

He took a sip, of the expensive wine that played played on his palette.

"Its delicious!" Will commented, placing a small smile on Hannibal's face.

Hannibal the quietly served the main course, Roasted pork Loin with Pancetta and sage.

Will then took a taste of the pate, before the roast, following the given order.

"Compliments to the chef" Will said, in a half joking manner as he devoured his serving, as hannibal accompanied him.

"This meat is delicious, what is it?" Will asked, making Hannibal's eyes, squint as he smirked.

"Pork" he answered, simply.

But to the ignorance of the other, what is said, and what is the truth, should never be revealed.

They continued on, as Hannibal placed the last course, caramelized Pear with mint. The herb highlighted the sweetness, of the fruit.

They had a quiet and formal conversation, that ranged from work to childhood.

Unbeknownst to Will, he was weak with the strong wine. feeling lighted headed with his fourth glass of the said drink.

"You know doctor Lecter, i find you incredible interesting. . ." Will said, in a slurred manner.

"Why, thank you" Hannibal said, smirking at his drunk companion

"N-no not in the way you think. . . " Will said, stuttering. he then looked up to the unknown distant and his shade of red, grew darker.

"And that is?" Hannibal asked, leaning closer to the table.

But as he looked up at Will for to answer the query, Will already lost his fight against his drowsiness, as his body fell back to the seat.

"Too well timed, i could say" Hannibal said, as he moved from his seat, and went to Will's side.

He slowly lifted up the smaller man, and went off to a room. where he laid the sleeping body, and tucked him in.

Hannibal then locked the door from out side, and put on his jacket and coat. . .

He went out, and made his preparations for his next prey. He smiled in satisfaction, of a glinting knife, as it reflected on the dull eyes of the breathless. Peering with a smile as blood gushed, that is his satisfaction.


	4. Ch. 4 enigma night

Will, woke up to a soft silky feeling of new sheets.

"No nightmares?" He questioned himself, in the unbelievable event, but then his head ached, feeling a lengthy thump of his blood pumping in him.

He looked around, examining the space. delicately decorated with classic designs, beige wallpaper, vases with white lilies and wooden furniture, symmetrically placed. He didn't question his location, for more than obvious reasons, the owner of the said room was the classy man she spent his dinner with.

He then took off the lavender scented duvet, he maneuvered his legs to touch the even wooden floor. He then strode off and faced a mirror, to see his reflective image.

Terribly shuffled hair, greeted him and the bags under his eyes still present. He took notice at the couple of buttons open on his red plaid shirt.

he walked off to the door, to be bombarded by salty essence of cooked food. He went down the wooden staircase, while fixing his disarrayed clothes.

The house looked much more lovely in the morning, seeing as the glass panes, catch the sunlight from outside. The place looked like it was from another country, european to be exact.

Will's slow paced steps, echoed through the seemingly empty house, as he marveled the antique value it had.

Another pair of footsteps startled Will, as the other presence gave a cough to steal the man's attention.

"Care for breakfast, William?" Hannibal said, giving a smile. Will looked at the other, surprised to see him in casual wear.

He wore a dark beige loose collared sweater, that hugged his physique, that he paired with dark black pants. His hair was loose, leaving his bangs at the front.

"Is there something wrong, William?" Hannibal asked, feigning concern.

"No, it's just that I expected you to wear a suit . . . " Will said honestly, as he had little care for social stigma or rudeness.

"Is that so" Hannibal answered, slicking his hair back, with his fingers.

"Do you prefer, I wear a suit?" Hannibal said in a nonchalant voice, keeping a smirk on.

" it's not that, I'm just used to seeing you in suits that's all" Will uttered in a slightly frantic tone.

"Very well, let's have breakfast" Hannibal said, leading will to the dining area.

The dining table was set, with a new bouquet of flowers in the vase, that rested at the center of the table. It was a bouquet of red chrysanthemums, the sweet smell was evident, but was not as powerful as the scent of the food that laid on the platters.

Will sat down at the seat adjacent to Hannibal's, will reached for the sausage, and pouched egg.

"Outstanding" Will exclaimed, tasting the savory flavor of the sausage.

"What is it?" Will asked, making Hannibal smirk.

" bratwurst, it's a German recipe. pork mixed with a little veal and beef, that i marinated with spices and ale" Hannibal explained, talking with quite the undeniable passion.

"So you made all these?" Will asked, amazed at the skill.

"Well yes, if you'd like i could teach you the recipe" Hannibal said, making a mischievous smirk.

Will's phone suddenly rang, startling the diners. It was Jack, immediately Will answered with no hesitation, which irritated Hannibal. Will walked out of the dining room and, stayed at the living room, leaving Hannibal alone.

"It is rude, to answer the phone on the dining table" Hannibal uttered under his breath, inaudible to the other.

After a few minutes Will came back with news, that didn't seem to be of surprise to the psychiatrist.

"There is a new victim to the check list, Jack, wants us to go to the scene now" Will said, as he took his coat from the rack.

"Could you give me time to change?" Hannibal said, refusing to leave, in what he quotes as 'inappropriate clothes'. Will strode to wait at the living room, until Hannibal came back wearing a three piece suit.

Immediately they rushed to the car, driving to the coordinates that the agent sent.

It was a cornfield, that had abandoned silos, by the side. A little stream passed through the lot.

When they arrived, Jack was waiting for the two, while crossing his arms in frustration. The two got out of the vehicle, and approached the fuming agent.

Jack led the two, to the victim, In which he explained the discovery.

"A farmer called 911 four hours ago, saying the stream was color red. When the first police respondents arrived on the scene, they searched the area for the possible source of the anomaly. . . And found the body of John C. Flint" Jack uttered the last line, as a sign of condolence.

"Are you sure it's John Flint?" Will said with a little distress.

"Positive, the dental records i  
are a match. . . How do you know him, Will?" Jack asked, as Will wore a sad expression.

"He . . . He was one of my students at the university. . . " Will said, saying the word like a curse.

"Doctor Lector, can I speak with you for a moment?" Jack asked, before walking far enough so Will can't hear the up coming conversation. Hannibal just silently followed the agent, peeking back at Will, who was in distraught.

"Doctor Lecter, I need your expertise in profiling. . . " Jack asked, only receiving a nod, as a reply.

"Tell me doctor, why is Will the center, the only single connection to all the victims. . . And why Will?" Jack said, almost looking pitifully at Will.

" agent Crawford, from what I observed, the killer is . . . Fascinated by William's abilities, and by eliminating the people around, his goal is to isolate the closest people to him. . . " Hannibal said, again feigning sadness.

"But why eliminate the people around him, if his target is Will?" Jack said, frowning at the new information.

" . . . His goal os not to kill William, but keep him . . . By taking everything closest to him . . . Agent Crawford, your the one who should be worried, you are one of the few people William is close to . . . You are more likely a target, then Him" Hannibal said, adding tension to the conversation.

"You too should be careful, i heard Will spent the night at your house. . . You should watch your back . . . You might not know, the killer is already behind you" Jack uttered, making a flat chuckle.

"Don't worry, i am a very careful man" Hannibal said, creating a smirk.


	5. Ch. 5 one word distance

"Why me? Why detain me?! For God's sake Jack, the killer is out there!" Will said, exclaiming his complaints, with utter irritation.

"Will, the killer wants you, and I won't take any chances of giving you to him. So suck it up and stay put!" Jack said, eradicating all possible retorts from his unwilling captive.

"You can't just drag me to a crime scene, and drag me back out!" Will said in exclamatory emotion, as he fussed like a child, being locked in the agent's office from the outside.

"I can and I already did, Will this is a little too close to home. . . As much as I want you to finish this case, I'm taking you out, and I am putting in witness protection do stay put, till i get back . . . " Jack uttered, before turing his back to Will who banged the glass door in frustration.

"Jack! Jack ! Will you listen!" Will said in a repetitive manner. Will then proceeded to vent his anger on the files stacked on the agent's desk, pushing them off in a swift strike.

As pages of case files, reports and suspect lists clutter the now disarrayed room, Will finally understood that all his efforts of notice were futile and just silently sat at the rolling chair, trying to gather all the data he can muster from his brain.

He tried to recall even the most obsolete details, on the last victim, like the scars that have long healed before the student's untimely death.

Left hand fracture of the third and forth metacarpal, from self defense. C1 vertebra fractured by metal rod, both femurs and tibias nailed to each other, blunt force truman at the cranium. . .   
He silently told himself, before making his hypothesis.

Once again, that sound of a pendulum swing to Will's convenience to erase the present.

"He tried to run away, i had to stop him . . . I have to tell the message. . . I attempted to stab him, but he blocked it with his left hand, which ended up being skewed. I pulled it out making him scream, i had to shut him up, i had to hit him, I bashed his head against the ground, over . . . And over again until he grew quiet, then i struck the rod in . . . I nailed his legs . . . No . . . You are not my design! . . . " Will uttered, as he slowly got back his grief stricken senses back.

Will, felt sweat trickling down his spine, he buried his face in his palms, as he replayed what he has witness with his skill.

A knock on the door, disturbed Will's self loathing peace. Will didn't look up, as he expected it to be Jack.

"William, are you alright?" A familiarly steady, concerned voice spoke.

"Hannibal?! How did you get in?!" Will asked, in an utterly surprised way.

"I am truly sorry, that I couldn't stop agent Crawford this mourning. I hope you forgive me" Hannibal said, placing a hand on his chest to reciprocate the feeling of guilt.

"No it's fine, It's not your fault." Will said a little bit flustered.

"If it's of any consolation, i have arranged for you to leave here, under the circumstances that you would stay with me. . . That is if you would agree" Hannibal said, which somehow elated Will's feelings.

"Yes, please! I'd take that offer any day . . . " Will uttered, but was soon silenced by the other's small laugh. He then reviewed and realized what he just said, and immediately felt a blush creeping on his cheeks.

"N-no that's not what I mean . . . -I" Will stuttered, as he tried to explain his side.

"No need to explain, I understand. . . Shall we go Will?" Hannibal said, which shocked Will.

"It's the first time you called me 'Will', I thought you'd call me 'William' for the rest of my life" Will said, with a little perk of joy.

"Is that so . . . I didn't notice, forgive me, that must have been impolite. . . " Hannibal said putting on an air of remorse.

"No, I'd actually prefer you to call me that . . . " Will said, still feeling his cheeks burn.

"Then shall we go?" Hannibal repeated, receiving a nod from Will.

As they rode, Hannibal's car. Will took this opportunity to call Jack, to inform him of his new data.

"Jack, it's Will I've got news on the case . . . " Will said, before being cut off by Jack's retort.

"Will I told you, you are off the case!" Jack, grimly said.

"Jack, just listen! Your not dealing with not one killer, but two. The original and the copycat, the one that killed Flint is the copycat. . . Try to compare Flint's wounds with the other victims. . . And separate the files of the ones that are different" Will said, as he finally persuaded Jack.

"Alright, I'll take a look at it. You and doctor Lecter be careful, if there really are two killers, one of them is surely after your life. . . " Jack said, before ending the call, without goodbyes.

Unbeknownst to the two, Hannibal was listening to the conversation. He then smirked at the thought of one of his cleanest works . . . John Carlson Flint.


	6. Ch.6 ear piece

As the two entered the familiar structure, the atmosphere that extended an indescribable uneasiness. 

Will immediately felt the chill, but brushed it off as nervousness, instead of facing the certainty of a horrid discovery. He hung his coat, on the rack where he previously placed it.

"Will, do mind if I change?" Hannibal said, obviously concerned about his well tailored three piece suit.

"Sure, I don't mind" Will said, before parting ways. Will then casually strode off to the dinning area, and seated himself, patiently waiting for The psychiatrist.

After a few minutes have past, Hannibal entered the room, in a folded white long sleeve shirt and black slacks. The fringe of his slicked back hair, loosened as some strands fell perfectly on his face, which seemed to awe the detective.

As Hannibal was about to enter his kept kitchen, he suddenly stopped on his tracks, and turned at Will's direction.

"Would you like to help me prepare the meal?" Hannibal said, in a modest tone.

Will just smiled and nodded in response, following Hannibal's steps to their destination.

Hannibal then proceeded to bring out a bowl of carefully minced meat and a thigh from the large freezer. Then placed it on the table, letting it thaw.

"What meat is this?" Will asked, looking curiously and cautiously, at the bloody bowl.

"Pork ears. . . And thigh" Hannibal answered, letting the words simmer in his mouth.

Will just nodded once again in response, he couldn't make up any words to describe, his gradual lack of appetite, as he stared at the bowl.

Hannibal noticed that Will observed the meat intensely, he then swiftly prepared a chopping board and a gleaming knife. He then placed a club of garlic and a handful of parsley, then called Will, to distract him from his curious stares.

"Can you please chopped these?" Hannibal asked politely, before handing him the sharp blade.

"Sure . . . " Will said, as he couldn't refuse, his now benefactor's request.

Will chopped the ingredients clumsily, making the chops uneven. Hannibal noticed, Will's struggling situation, he pressed himself to the younger man's back and held Will's hand, as he slowly guided him, gliding the knife through evenly and swiftly.

Unbeknownst to the guide, Will was in complete fluster and felt an uncomfortable anxiousness, that came with the close contact.

Hannibal 's grip loosened, as Will's body, automatically maintain the pattern.

Hannibal then proceeded to lay the minced ears out, on a new chopping board and spread his spices across the board, distributing the flavor.

Hannibal the preheated the pan, as he waited for Will to finish his responsibility.

Hannibal then placed 1/2 stick of unsalted butter to the pan, and then proceeded to gather Will's products and slowly sauté it, on a low fire. Soon after he placed his minced meat at the pan, slowly stirring it from time to time, and gradually added crumbs to the ears.

" this is a recipe i learned in France, it's called 'Sainte-Menehould', with a little innovation, the taste differs drastically." Hannibal said, looking joyously at his entrée.

Soon after, Hannibal took over the preparations and executions of the main course, Marmelade de Pommes. He urged Will to stay as he is a 'guest'.

This act dejected Will's thoughts, feeling as though he was unwanted or unusable in anyway, which was the worst for Will besides loneliness.

"Will, please take a seat" Hannibal uttered, before coming out with entrée on hand.

Hannibal then divided the servings and poured Will some light merlot, instead of a bottle of Vosne-Romanee, that caused the previous experience.

A playful smile played on Hannibal's lips, as he pressed a slice of the pork ear, slowly immersing his palette at the sensual flavor.

Soon after se finally served the main course, the marmalade de pommes, which is grilled pork thigh, marinated in apple sauce and serve with gravy.

The savory smell of the well done meat, passed through Hannibal's sensitive nostrils.

Will on the other hand, hummed at the savory yet sweetness of the dish, which entangled his taste.

Looking at Will's joyed expression, Hannibal wonder, when his latest victim is going to be found . . . Making him smirk at the thought of the new game.


	7. Ch. 7 Donna Delilah

The doctor waft the smell of the pine scent, as the smell of a putrid corpse mixed with the seemingly harmonious afternoon setting.

He silently stood, as he waited for the two's bantering to subside.

"Will, I told you to stay out of this!" The agent said, speaking in his domineering voice.

"Jack, you and I both know that this case would go faster with me on the team!" Will said in a childish retort.

"No, means no!" Agent Crawford uttered, reaching a new octave, out of frustration of the younger man's liberated in-obedience.

"No one can do better than me, I could do it faster, more accurate, Jack, please you've got to let me in . . . " Will said in almost a begging tone, that internally irritated the doctor.

But even with this, Jack was a hard man to sway. Persuading him is like pushing a ten ton rock, it's possible to move, but obviously not alone.

Will looked at his now benefactor, with pleading eyes, that seemed to entertain the psychiatrist, causing a little smirk.

"Agent Crawford, may I suggest something. . . ?" Hannibal said waiting for a response, in which he got by a nod.

"How about giving Will the files, pictures and samples, instead . . . That way, Will can work while in protection." Hannibal added, which elated the detective.

Jack went silent, as he weighed his priorities and probabilities. He then, after a few moments, agreed, as they met half way in this arrangement.

"Since your here, I might as well brief you with the new victim . . . " the agent uttered, as he walked the two to the rotting body.

"The body was found by a hunter, after scavengers were gathering around the body. Thinking it was the deer he just shot, he went in closer to see the body. He saw it was human and called the police." The agent added, as one of his lab rats were taking samples of the victim, for identification.

"It's an unidentified female, possibly mid twenties to thirties, blonde and missing a body parts, possibly from the scavengers. . . Except! For the ears, it's been cut by a sharp blade, possibly hand held like a knife or a scalpel. . . The cut is a bit odd too, it's too precise, missing mere millimeters from the ear drum, only taking the tendons." Jimmy Price said, exclaiming a few words with an emotion between fascination and disgust.

" Almost the same MO, as before. . . And most likely someone from your past . . . " Jack said, looking rather sorry for the death, that the detective brings with him, in both literal and metaphoric sense.

"I took the liberty to send the dentals to Beverly this morning, we'll probably get the results in less than hour, we just gotta wait" Jimmy said, in an oddly optimistic voice.

"Can you show me the picture, of how you found the body?" Will asked, making Jack call one of the forensics staff, a dirty blond woman, who was about 5'6 in height, walked to them, she then handed Will the camera and viewed the image, zooming it in for further inspection.

Suddenly the sound of the pendulum, swung back and forth, Will's mind eradicated the changes in the scene, erasing even the sound of the chirping birds.

I dragged the body, and laid it down . . . No . . . You are a puzzle . . . You are in complete . . . You are my design.

His mind, was pulled back to the reality of the horrid noises, and he immediately looked at Jack and announced. . .

" Jack, she wasn't killed here, it's like the killer is asking for a challenge . . . This victim is part of an unfinished puzzle " Will said, with his mind playing on the details.

"What do you mean?" Hannibal asked the thoughts of the agent.

"I don't know . . . Jimmy, check the body for anything out of the ordinary" Will ordered, pressing his words with diction.

"Alright boss" Jimmy uttered, using sarcasm.

Jimmy checked the body, checking the exterior with out compromising the scene, he lifted the woman's shirt and a circular cut was found, on the stomach, that was sawn back. But the skin's tones were off one discolor then the other.

"I think, I found what you wanted . . ." Jimmy announced.

Will looked at the skin close up, it was . . . Different from the rest of the body, yet the same as well, a peculiar piece of flayed skin.

A call form Beverly came, after a few minutes of lamentation.

"The victim is Delilah Jones, 29 years old, a preschool teacher near the local church" The Agent uttered.

"She was one of the staff at the school. . . " Will uttered, melancholy taking over.

"Jack, Search for Donna Jones!" Will said in a hurried manner.

" who's Donna Jones?" The Agent asked, making Will frown.

" if my hunch is correct . . . That skin over there belongs to Delilah Jones twin sister, Donna"


	8. Ch.8 prose of the persecuted

Please comment what you think of it :)

I am much more encouraged to write after hearing the opinions of others, so I can improve it.

Anyway enjoy lovely readers   
:)  
\-----------------------------------------------------  
Under the confinement of the classic four walled room, Will itched to see the gruesome bloodshed of a scene. In a way this was a cold addiction that seemed to control his mind.

He proceeded to stand and sit in a constant loop, the feeling of an eerie presence, lingered in his mind. The dictating voice, always peered and prodded his weaknesses that could be termed as, he quotes as 'emotions'.

In his career, the trade of life and death, 'emotion' were an excess in the continuation of life. It was for the weak and helpless, for the victims that were robbed of their most valuable possession, their lives.

But for Will, that was not a problem. Will looked at himself as a blackhole in the expansive universe of scattered people, uncommon, but not alone.

The pictures that laid before him were a tease, 'the voice' speaking to them like a gorgeous virgin lay before a wolf, it was a situation of prey and predator.

A sudden knock on the door, lifted Will from his thoughts that plunged and spiraled down.

"Are you alright Will? you haven't left this room in two days." Hannibal asked, as he observed the daunting expression of the figure of his coy attraction.

"Im fine . . . " Will muttered like a lost child, making Hannibal frown.

Will looked out the glass of the window, pressing his hand against it, like a trapped animal looking for an escape. Hannibal's eyes sharpened at this expression, finding it immaculate and amusing.

Will's entrapment has grown to be the requiem of his own obsession, that seemed to reflect on the doctor as well.

"What do you want to do?" The older man's query, caught the attention of younger, giving him a flicker of hope coiled in his eyes.

"The scene it's . . . Killing me . . . " Will uttered before pursing his lips.

"What do you mean?" Hannibal questioned, keeping the façade of an innocent bystander, but in truth he understood this feeling the most.

"I-I can't work like this, trapped in this room! In this house! . . . I have to be out their . . . But I shouldn't . . . " Will uttered to himself.

" how about we have a therapy session for today . . . Let's try to solve the problem" Hannibal suggested, making Will nod in response.

They went into the study, the wide room, reflected Hannibal's illusion of himself, a gentle, classy and intellectual man. This was presented by the small intricate details and colours of the room, paired with a vast collection of intellect challenging books, organized by their authors.

Will seated himself, on the opposite end of Hannibal's leather recliner chair. then, the psychiatrist proceeded to pull out a clipboard and pen from a wooden desk. He nonchalantly crossed his long legs, and observed the frigidness of his momentary patient.

Will felt exposed under the doctor's piercing stare, feeling as though he was getting pinned down and dissected.

"So tell me, what are you feeling right now?" Hannibal's interrogative question, freezes the thought processes of the agent.

"Wh-what?!" A paranoid response, filled through the agents mind. Grasping the possibility, that his growing attraction to the interrogator has been exposed.

"About the crime scenes, I wou-" Hannibal said, being cut off by Will's sigh of relief.

"I want to see it . . . No, I have to see it! That killer has a message for me, and i bet that I'm the only one who can crack this!" Will claimed at the pretense of the supposed 'game' of the unidentified killer.

"Why do you think so? " Hannibal asked, with a peek of a smirk seeping through his lips.

"Because i was given a sign, that he wants contact with me" Will said, putting on a smirk.

"And what sign might that be?" Hannibal asked, he himself surprised by the sudden answer.

"He kept you, my psychiatrist, alive" Will smirk softened, feeling the growing embarrassment from such a statement.

"Now all i have to think about is the scenes and how to contact him" Will added.


	9. ch. 9 Killer head

Warning: this part maybe more graphic then other chapters. All the plot I'm using was researched (and studied, for historical purposes that i am now applying on the flow of the story). This was used in some parts of the world, as a ritualistic/vengeful symbol, so no hate comments as respect for those who have or still are believing in this tradition/ritual. Thank you !

\------------------------------------------------------  
Soon after the psychiatric session, of continual assessment. Hannibal felt a spark of excitement, like a new playmate has finally entered the field.

His previously minimal progressing obsession, was now in a deeper pit of spiraling of a thrilling interest. He saw this obsessiveness over the dead as an ideal toy, disposable yet valuable, and as for that moment he knew that Will understood.

He understood the thrill of catching a moving, struggling prey.

"Tell me Will, what do you see in this picture?" Hannibal asked handing a picture of a mutilated body, pierced at almost all angles creating a dimensional void of a single axis, that was located at the torso.

The man in the picture was teared up, broken like a disjointed ventriloquy doll. The man's right arm, contorted breaking it in three points, its legs were bent over backwards. 

"I-I . . . " Will utter to voice his speechlessness, the craving of blood, boiling, it's eased dormant state slowly vanishing. Hannibal was quite enthralled with the sense, it was a visual perspective of a very vague concept called 'emotions'.

Unlike Will, who stood his ground and made himself numb of feelings, Hannibal was different, he simply doesn't feel it. He doesn't understand such useless concepts, living by the rule 'kill or be killed', his primal instinct of course is to win in the supposed Darwinian race.

In his perspective, 'emotions' simply lead to 'morals', which for him would be the down fall of the race of his priced cattle.

In a sense he loved the thrill of the kill, but what he was most fascinated about is the primal fear of the inevitable death, that basic instinct that dictates the victim's will to live, it was quite a marvelous find that he observed in his first few kills.

To him a crime scene is like a framed priceless work of art, left to be found, searched, studied. Making people marvel at its unique beauty.

Will on the other hand loomed his head at the gory scene, an internal glee, slowly coiling his mind.

"What do you see, Will?" Hannibal repeated, waiting for a definitive answer.

"A painting. . . A game" he simply said, making the doctor even more mesmerized by his unconventional intellectual beauty. His mind played a soft violin of the classical fantasia, as a tension was created with the interrogative statement from the momentary patient.

"Where did you get this? . . . "

Silence hung between the two, feeling an cold breeze of disbelief and disapproval from different sides. Hannibal glared, making his maroon eyes glint with a new challenge.

"You tell me, detective. . . I want to understand the extent of your empathy" Hannibal uttered, with a teasing diction.

"What do you mean?" A profoundly confused, Will directed his full attention at the doctor.

"Empathize with me, study me" Hannibal said, feeling entertained at the flustered actions of the other. But soon that fluster subsided, replaced by a stern expression.

" I can't" Will said as a gist of his answer.   
"I can't, even if i tried . . . " Will uttered, lifting his brows as a sign of mixed emotions, creating a perplexing void in his mind.

"And why is that?" Hannibal queried at the sudden rejection.

"You. . . Your not a criminal . . . I can only get in side the head if criminals." Will said explaining his side on the matter.

Hannibal fell back in his chair, making the leather touch his back. He smirked at the comical irony.

"Fascinating" Hannibal said, culminating his curiosity.

The sudden silence was broken, by the telephone ringing. Hannibal answered the phone, he picking it up and placed it near he right ear.

It was from the FBI office, an unsurprisingly a familiarly deep booming voice welcomed the two to another pick-and-go.

"It's me . . . " he said, claiming no introduction of any sort.

"We found the head, I'm picking you two up" he added before hanging up, not even hearing a single letter of the supposed reply.

The doctor continued to mutter under his breath, pinning the flaw of rudeness the agent possess, and if he was given a choice, he would refuse the offer of letting Will see the scene, as he was still rendered as unprepared to participate in the real game.

But, he had to tell Will what was the news. And in consequence Will felt a rush of over joy.

Within a few minutes a black car parked in front of the vicinity, the duo rode in their usual place, and lingered in the silence.

As they drew near the crime scene, Will noticed the place was in a way very populated, people gathered around the yellow taped area, trying to get a glimpse of the body, but in this case head.

Will, hurriedly entered the home, looking for a mess of a scene. Blood spattering, hand prints and such, but he found none. In a way it was quite disappointing, as he was looking for a morbid thrill.

But he noticed an off object in the room, it was coal black, foliage of some kind stuck out from it. Will took it upon himself and examined the object closer, to his surprise he found the spark.

It was a head.

But it was miniature, like a child's, but the thickness of the lips and slits of the eyes tell other wise.

Will painted his face a twisted expression, of growing entertainment and resentment of this horrid satisfaction, the grotesque object was boxed and taken away from the vicinity.

It was a shriveled object, and quite a mystery to the forensic department. Making them take the last option. . . Will Graham.

"What is it?" Jack asked, trying to squeeze the answer from the detective, but none came out.

"I believe that is called a 'shrunken head', it was used in some indigenous tribes as a punishment to dead enemies, that died in battle.

I think the best question to ask now is, who and how did this happen" Hannibal said, getting a curious look from the agent.


	10. Ch. 10 dried dead

" the body you guys brought, is quite a find, in a weird creepy way . . . " the long black hair woman announced, while she paced to the other side, that was followed by the clacking of her high heel shoes.

"So what happened here?" Jack sternly uttered, as the patient and doctor stood beside him.

They faced the dismembered head, it was small compared to an average one, making this mystery more intriguing. The three looked at the stainless operating table with different reactions, Will saw it as an obscene macabre of revenge, which was written all over his face. Yet, at the same time artistically beautiful, while Jack was simply disgusted.

On the other hand the doctor was amused by the reactions, that it pulled another trigger in him, a trigger of confidence in one of his master pieces.

"The head was, obviously, first decapitated. The killer then proceeded to make an incision from the skin on top of the first vertebra, to the top of the Parietal bone . . . The skull was removed, with the other organs. . . " Beverly Katz narrated, a little disgust and pity seeping through her nonchalant voice.

"Here's the interesting bit, the killer then boiled the flayed skin, to make the head smaller" Jimmy Price said, with his usual enthusiasm, that fathoms the others of its existence.

"Anyway . . . The flayed shrunken skin, is the placed inside-out to scrape off of what's left of the tissue, muscle and fats. . . Which I imagine is extremely gross.

Then filled it with hot rocks and sand to shrink it even more, concluding with the skin of the eyes or eye lids and lips being sewn shut . . . At least that is one of the theories" Beverly uttered, sounding unsure even to herself.

"Theories?" Will asked a little puzzled, usually the lab already has, at least a few definite fact about pathology of the crime.

But this time it was different, the killer was cultured, intelligent and swift with his crimes. He was a well calculated killer, measuring his every step, looking at all possible exits if he were to be caught.

"By theory, i mean there really is no definitive answer to you question Jack, I'm sorry . . . We can't even identify who's head it is, no dentals for the dental records, no tissue since the skin was too washed out and burnt, no hair samples, because obviously there is no hair, it's been shaven to the follicle. . . The hairs that are sticking out is bleached out, so its useless, i don't even know how he manage do it all, in this short time . . . " Beverly uttered, this time with quite the diction.

"short time?" Will queried, looking quite suspicious of the grotesque item.

"yup, you heard her right. based on decomposition, this little baby has only been dead for about two to four days. when I popped it open, I checked the little veins of the cheeks, it still contained some blood, dried but recent, showing signs of recent blood flow . " Jimmy Price once again, entering the conversation.

"how is that relevant?" Jack looked quite puzzled, he pursed his lips waiting for a proper reply from the lab rat.

"there is a bruising over the incision of decapitation, that has partially healed in a span of five to six days ago, which means?" Jimmy looked joyfully at his partners, expecting for an immediate answer.

"just say it already!" Jack ordered in a fit of agitation.

"it means the victim was kept alive, for about the same time as the bruise healed . . . which means all you guys have to do is look at the missing persons report, in the last five to four days, to find the victim's indentity. " Jimmy uttered, feeling quite accomplished.

immediately, Jack pulled out his phone calling all the nearest FBI agents that are free to look into the missing persons of the given days.

Will on the other hand went to the doctor's side, which was by the brick pillar. He tapped his shoulder to get the other's attention, which he did successfully.

"profile for me, Doctor Lecter. . . what is the pathology of this killer?" Will said, in an inquisitive tone.

"I can't do what you can, Will . . . I am not a profiler . . . what's wrong Will?" The doctor uttered, simulating interest in the man.

"I can't profile him . . . which is quite the first for me" Will uttered, feeling a chill.

"what do you mean?" the doctor asked in an interrogative tone, feeling the other's perplexity cascaded on his face.

"this killer, he is getting into mind, I can't get into his . . . it's like he's blocking me . . . controlling me, I-I can't explain it . . . it's as though he is always there . . . " Will utter, shaking his head, feeling his hands become frigid.

"impossible, he can't get inside a FBI lab, as secure as this . . . It's all in your head . . . Will, would you like another session?" Hannibal uttered, sweetening the vector of his tone, honeying his influence over the other even more.

Will couldn't resist, just nodding as a silent response. he once again gazed upon the solemnly dead object, feeling himself wither.

"just - just try, please " Will voiced his request like a child, making the other smirk in response, as to him this was equivalent to begging, which gravely amused him.

"This kill, was showing only a fraction of the killers mental assets, it is a calm hunt for him, that's all i can say . . . " Hannibal uttered, inspecting Will's face for a reaction, expecting none as he knew that Will already thought of that paraphrased statement.

"I -" Will utter, but was cut off by Jack's booming voice.

"we found a connection, with the missing persons and the kill from last one. . ." Jack uttered, as the others anticipated for the next statement.

"Donna Jones, she's been missing for five days . . . the same day as Delilah Jones was killed " Jack added.

"but if what your implying is true, that means . . . the killer flayed her stomach alive, and kept her alive . . . but how?" Brian said, finally joining the conversation.

"that what you three are about to find out" Jack uttered pointing at the three lab coated agents.


	11. ch. 11 mad hatter

"how do you feel?" Hannibal asked, as he was once again seated on his leather reclining chair. his legs crossed elegantly, while a clipboard rested upon his lap.

"I don't know . . . " the other simply stated, wallowing in his dark pit of emotions.

"Then let me rephrase it for you, what do you feel for the victim . . . " Hannibal uttered airy in nature.

Will opened his mouth wanting to say a normal human response, which varies from disgust to morbid fascination, but he couldn't. He felt an kick of life with every murder, it wasn't just a fascination. He felt as though he was descending in an untimely madness. A truly terrifying feat.

"Madness" Will finally mustered. A simple word that pulled a few strings in the doctor.

"I don't believe so . . . " Hannibal uttered, as silence hung between the two, as Hannibal simply observed.

"What do you mean?" Will said, after reflecting in a span of a few minutes.

"There really no such thing as madness or insanity. Humans try to achieve a fictional concept of true freedom, a freedom to do anything and everything. But, what puts a minority of humans in a group called the insane, is when it is acted upon, what is against morals. But morals being a human concept, how is that defying an superior being?

So in conclusion there really is no insanity, it is just acting upon what you think is right. Equally, I view normal as an . . . unnamed insanity" Hannibal answered, sharing his opinion upon his patient.

"so you view conformism, as a sin? " Will queried, looking quite confused.

"no . . . I see conformism as an Misanthropic act, of locking our primal nature. To copy each other, limiting our way of survival by diversity. 

so . . . how do you see, the madness you possess?" the doctor, now reversing the question, trying to crack his internal mental protection. 

"I . . . see madness, as a depletion of whats left of my sanity. Which isn't much from the start." Will explained, feeling a mutual interest in void of the flaw in human mentality. 

"and what do you think is the reason for this?"Hannibal followed up, observing the pattern of his words, the pauses as well as the other's micro-expressions.

"Cynicism and contempt, blindness from demagogues. . . I find humans as lovable fools, following fate as a puppeteer, being shackled by fictional silver strings" Will uttered, while his eyes were wondered, conveying his painted perspective of such a beautifully poetic cynical world. 

"fascinating . . . " the doctor muttered under his breath, in audible to the other. 

"do you believe in providence?" Hannibal asked, creating a dry chuckle from the detective. 

" . . . after describing humanity as an atrocity, do you think I still believe in such a trivial things?" Will answered unfazed, by the sensitivity of the question.

"facts and beliefs are not the same . . . lets just say that what you describe as humanity is fact, but what do you believe in? in a subjective pretense " Hannibal, said driving a sense of control over the other subconsciously. 

little to Will's knowledge, these words and questions were more like triggers. It was a psychological trick to assert dependence from the patient. To box him in wall of losing hope and a sense of what the doctor dubbed as a fictional concept, morality, creating a forced dependence on what or who he thought could make him feel normal, or in the stand of sanity, as Will was in an impressionable state.

"I believe in . . . survival . . . " Will answered, making the doctor smirk. he has succeeded, but the doctor needed more proof and measure of his influence.

"in a hypothetical manner, how do you survive in a world filled with enemies?" Hannibal asked, as he pursed his lips for an answer. 

" Elimination . . . " Will muttered, Hannibal widened his previous smirk.

"I think we should conclude this session for today" Hannibal uttered satisfied, while scribbling words on the paper that was on the clipboard. 

in that moment, Hannibal was in the verge of uttering Will about his laudable vocal performance, in the assessment .

"I think dinner would be appropriate." Hannibal said, as he directed the other to the dining area. 

It puzzles Will, on how Hannibal maintains a perceptual calm, even after the confession of his insanity, that he may or may not be guilty of. 

Will once again, felt this natural predilection to the doctor, but stronger. As in his mind, they share a mutual perspective. His unison to doctor made him feel an attraction and affection, unknown to his withered existence. 

Hannibal on the other hand noticed Will's perplexedly suppressed attraction to him, and he immersed himself in it. Hannibal noted his physical attraction to the other as well, even going so far a memorizing the scent of the other's after shave. Like an animal, he found it quite sensual. 

He had an unnamed desire of physical contact, so in little ways he did. As they walked through the halls of the vicinity, Hannibal brushed his hand slightly against Wills, and immediately he got Will's reaction, making the other flinch and blush, from so little. 

Will truly was a paragon of his ideal.


	12. Not (yet a) chapter, just a teaser

This idea came on to me, when i binged watch (again) hannibal . . . I noticed the teasers + prologue = good thrilling episode.

So i was inspired to do my own . . . Distinctly entertaining version. As i want for this book to reflect the show and books, as much as possible .

Anyway enjoy XD !

Please comment, on what you think the next chapter is about. Ahhahhahahahhaha

\----------------------------------------------------

(Prologue)  
Hannibal's hands impatiently roamed, as he peeled a layer of clothing, off of the other.

blood hot hands touch the other's bare skin, making shiver.

"N-no ahhhh" the other uttered feeling a sharp pain below. . .

(Prologue end )


	13. revision of sight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> May the joy begin, now(-ish)
> 
> Please enjoy and comment your opinion on the story. (good and bad) reviews are welcome here, to help me improve my writing. . . . Thank you XD
> 
> Side note : use the prologue on my previous update, to connect to this chapter.

**May the joy begin, now(-ish)**

**Please enjoy and comment your opinion on the story. (good and bad) reviews are welcome here, to help me improve my writing. . . . Thank you XD**

Side note : use the prologue on my previous update, to connect to this chapter.  
 **\----------------------------------------------------**  
The lab trio, scattered about in the spacious area. One swiftly tapping keys, trying to find the victims history and affiliations.

"Got it! Brian, go print out at least five copies each page. I'll send the file through the FBI mainframe. . . " Jimmy suggested, as his fingers lightly rested on the keyboard.

"No, you idiot! The mainframe is hackable, if what Doctor Lector was saying true, that killer is intelligent, we don't know what he can do. . .

I don't want to leak this information to him! Im not taking a chance" Brian stated, visibly irritated and challenged by the unknown player.

"So what do you 'suggest', we do?" Jimmy uttered, in a mixture of a serious and sarcastic query.

"The old fashion flash drive" Brian uttered flatly, in a serious tone.

"You know, it would be easier if you just make a direct printing! What do you think?" Jimmy said, crossing his arms, to indicate his seriousness.

"You want to know what I think? I think, may way is better!" Brian uttered a loud.

The two started to debate, on which out dated technology was superior. Seeing as the FBI system mainframe hasn't been updated for about twenty years, and the USB was quite old as well, it was obviously a stalemate.

It was an intensified debate, making Jack intervene, as he barged in and cut the on going action.

"What is going on here!" His voice boomed on, it became lower from irritation.

It was obviously a childish feud, considering the two were the participants.

The two looked nervous, angering Jack was like being on a hitman's hit list. He would make sure, you pay the price of your own incompetence.

"You both are certified FBI agents, and this is what you argue about in the middle of an investigation! Do you even hear yourselves! You are paid to investigate, now  _investigate_!"  With pressure on the last word, the two stopped their nonsensical bickering and scurried off to their respective stations.

Jack cursed to himself about the childish nature of the two, he found it comically annoying. The ringing of the phone disturbed his cuss session, as he picked it up from his right pants pocket.

"Crawford, what is it?" He answered in his standard tone. The person on the other end didn't respond, as an breath kept on panting, in a constant pattern.

"Who is this!" Jack demanded, receiving no response once again. It unnerved the agent.

The breath suddenly choked, as it suddenly completely stopped, giving an eerie feel to the receiver.

A deeply hollow voice soon followed.

"Are you entertained?"the voice asked.

"Who is this?!" Jack demanded as he raised his voice, getting the attention of the two. He gestured to Jimmy, to track the caller as fast as he could.

"I am the ripper. . ." The caller said in a distorted manner.

"Who?" Jack said, trying to lengthen the conversation, considering the lab duo has yet to pinpoint the caller, after all Jack knew what it was about.

"It's so sad that you haven't named me yet, even after admiring one of my most recent works, the beauty that your little pet calls  _Donna Jones,_  So I took the liberty of naming myself . . . " he said, in a mocking tone.

"How about . . . The slasher? Or would you prefer  _Jack_ the Ripper? A graceful homage if i do say so myself. doesn't it have a ring to it?

I can see the headline right now ' _Baltimore's very own Jack the Ripper' "_  
He taunted, he fed off of Jacks verbal irritation.

"What do you want?!" Jack said fiercely, making his hands fist.

"Tik-tok goes the clock agent, the victim won't live for too long. . . He has a message waiting for you, and I expect you to receive it - " the killer uttered, before cutting the call.

"Got it!" Jimmy Price announced, making Jack put back his phone on its rightful place.

Immediately Jack ran to Jimmy's side, to confirm the claim. The lab rat did in fact succeed.

The location was a landfill, called  _Adam,_ up north of the town, about three hours away. It was too far from the main office, he then proceeded to call all agents, to have all hands on deck on this retrieval operation.

"Calling all available units, there is a hit on the killer. Infiltrate the Adam landfill, proceed with caution, the killer is on to us." He immediately cut the call, and rode off to the location.

After a three hour drive in the rough terrain, the agent finally caught a glimpse of the target location.

As he went down, off his vehicle. A brunette man was being pulled out, with a stretcher, as an ambulance waited out.

Jack inspected the man as he got closer, he was bleeding profusely from his abdomen, and was missing a leg, but was in a way relieving to find that he was in fact still alive.

Jack pressed a number on his phone, as he tried to contact his colleague.

"Hello, how may i help you?" The participant asked in an elegant manner.

"Come he-" Jack said, but was swiftly cut off by the doctor.

"I know this is important, but I think it's best to not get Will involved in this . . ." Hannibal uttered in whispers.

"But you don't understand doctor Lecter, we have a live victim!" Jack said almost in a shout.

"Alive?" Hannibal said, suspiciously interested.

"Yes, the killer called, and lead me the way to the victim. . . he even admitted to the other murders." jack stated.

"Which murders?" Hannibal queried, racing a brow at his competition.

"The most recent ones, even the head" Jack said, In between a joy and saddened tone.

" I see, very well, we shall go. Please send the directions to the scene . . . " Hannibal said, before ending the conversation.

Hannibal was quite intrigued with this  _victim_ and  _killer_ , it seems as though a new player has bared it's head.

The two rushed to the scene, as Will felt adrenaline pour into his veins. He felt the weight of deprivation fall upon him.

"What's the case?" Will uttered, after facing Jack.

"While waiting for you, we got the identity of the victim. His name is Raphael Michel, 16 years old. . . Do you know him?" Jack asked, already expected a positive answer.

"Honestly, no. . . I know the name . . . But that is not Raphael. . . Raphael is a thirty year old man" Will said, quite shocked at his words.

"But the dentals . . . " Jack said quite shocked.

"Then the dentals are wrong!" Will said with strong diction.

"And I don't believe what that ' _killer_ ', claimed was real, just judging from the situation" Hannibal added, looking at the other two.

"How is this different?" Jack asked observing the doctor.

"The situation it's self is wrong, why call now after so many victims. . . I believe we have two separate killers on our hands. . . Not to mention something is not truly factual about the existence of this  _victim"_ Hannibal uttered.

A competition has begun

  
  



	14. rewritten history

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment on what you think about the chapter! In truly encourages me to update faster.
> 
> also if your Lithuanian, I'm so sorry with the horrible translations (>.

It was approximately two days and sixteen hours, since the discovery of the live victim.

the two agents and the doctor have been upholding a lingering anticipation of this new discovery as they waited for the most eventful evidence in the case to be released.

The lab rats have been knocking their brains out, trying to figure out the true identity of the john doe and the killer. This irritated Jack even more, as the uneventful news sunk in to him after the lengthy phone call from the lab came a few minutes prior.

" any luck?" Will hinted his quaint interest, feeling a depleting lingering hope.

"Nothing . . . We've hit a brick wall on this. The lab has cross examined the victim's prints, with the criminal data base. It seems the victim is a decent guy, not a single match with his physical features or his prints. No records. Not a single one! Not even a parking ticket! They've ran the test four times! This guy is a blank page! The only thing he has as identification is false dentals of a thirty year old man!" Jack babbled, feeling an agitation that flamed even more with the stacking of dead end expectations.

"As for the killer, he did his work perfectly, not a single foreign finger print touched the clothes and skin of the victim. . . The lab tested it every way they could and everything is clean. . . This killer is getting on my nerves" Jack added, as he started to pace back and forth, at the marble floored hall, and waited for the victim's results.

He suddenly muttered swears to himself thinking it was inaudible to the others, as he started to grow a hateful impatience. In actuality, his cussing was frankly quite audible to his colleagues, but as the three reviewed the given information from the lab, the others let the unprofessional cussing pass.

they individually reflected upon the vagueness of the given information, and how everything was  _too clean and perfect . . . too well panned_. , not even the infamous Ed Gein or Ted Bundy was this organized. A sudden variety of reactions were revealed as it subtly show their unconscious agendas and interpretations of each.

Jack was obviously frustrated, the killer or attempted killer, knew which buttons to push in the head agent, this meant the horrible possibility of an insider, which is not far from happening. As he knows the flexibility of  _trust_ and  _loyalty,_ that recent shown by some unnamed FBI agents.

While, Will enjoyed the romanticized idea that this, maybe the sign for contact from the killer, that he has been waiting for.

But out of anyone the most suppressed yet amused emotion came from the doctor himself, he viewed the supposed ripper as a friend, an escape goat and an enemy. As stealing his works of art, was infuriating in his side of the bargain, and yet he found an accomplice that would rid him of all suspicion and evidence, it is a truly a love-hate relationship.

As they each lamented on the gory aspects of the crime, and how it was possible. This criminal seemed to know his factors and assets very well, and also seemed to get off from the attention given by the police, as the media still has no clue of the happenings around the supposed silent town.

Will then position himself beside the doctor, feeling oddly comfortably at the waiting chairs.

Hannibal was used to all the silent tension that a hospital brought, because as a surgeon he found it to be a decent hunting ground, not for meat but for entertainment. As he proclaimed his previous hospital victims, as " _tainted meat_ ".

while Will was just satisfied, sitting beside the doctor. Even though usually, Will would try to avoid places like this, as he didn't particularly enjoy the attention and indifference of the people that walked around here.

"Agent Crawford, good to see you again!" A cheery greeting came from a middle aged man, he wore a white lab coat, a stethoscope hung halfway around his neck and a folder tucked under his left arm.

"Doctor Alionis, good to see you as well! How's the victim?" Jack said, cutting to the chase.

"Well let's see. . . " he uttered, as he pulled the folder open.

" our john doe, has a severe concussion from a head trauma and has five broken ribs, but thank fully he's conscious and is even able to talk.

It took more than a hundred and twenty stitches, to close the wound on his abdomen, since it was a rigid cut. . . I don't know how the killer could do this to someone" the doctor lamented, feeling a strong sense of disgust for the ripper.

"Did he take any body parts? Organs? Appendages? "Will asked cutting in on the conversation, it was a logical question that made the doctor's eyes widen with discomfort.

"No. . . Not that I know of" the middle aged man, was obviously disturbed by the horrifying question.

"Then doc, do you think he can receive an interview? We just need ask a few questions." Jack stated in a demanding tone.

Doctor Alionis just nodded.

"But I don't know if you can get sense out of him . . . He's been speaking in gibberish. I'm not even sure if he's American." Doctor Alionis uttered, while gesturing the way.

Jack gave a look, that signaled his companions to follow, but Hannibal let his two companions enter the room first, as he approached the un-amused DoctorAlionis .

 _"tu turi nieko bendro su tai?"_  Doctor Alionis uttered in a whisper, in a rustic Lithuanian accent that was soothing to Hannibal's ears.

[ **translation** : did you have anything to do with this?]

 _"patikėk aš neketinu gauti policijos dėmesio. Aš ne daryti kažką, kad kvailas kaip skambučio."_  Hannibal said, glaring at the doctor.

[ **translation** : believe me i don't intend to get the attention of the police. I wouldn't do something so stupid like a call.] 

 _"įsitikinkite, kad viskas yra paslaptyje, nereikia vilkti mane su jumis. . ."_  Doctor muttered with diction, he knew very well the capability of the psychiatrist, which made him even more of a suspect in the doctor's eyes.

[ **translation** : make sure that everything is confidential, do not drag me down with you ...]

 _"Aš ne. . ._  
 _Bet aš vis dar remiasi jums bendradarbiavimo, daktaras."_  Hannibal uttered, as he as well made his way to the patients room. "

[ **translation:**  i won't. . .  
but i would still rely on your cooperation, doctor.]

as Hannibal reached his destination, a voice of a man echoed through the dim lit corridor, screaming familiar words. the psychiatrist entered the room to see a disoriented Jack and Will holding the patient back and keeping him from struggling, puzzled and perplexed by the patient.

"what's the problem?" Hannibal asked, feigning worry.

"he won't stay still and he kept on shouting nonsense!" Jack said heightening his voice to make the others understand, while Will stood still as support in trying to restrain the patient from his bed, as the boy struggled wildly.

"both of you please step out for a moment, i'll try to calm the patient down!" Hannibal ordered to the surprise of the two, but complied.

a slam followed behind them, as they watched through the sound proof glass what the doctor was planning to do. 

 _"užsičiaupk!"_ the psychiatrist shouted, making an unsettling silence.

 **[translation** : Shut up!]

Hannibal walked to the patient's side, as he blocked the patient's face from the glass, preventing the other's to see an extremely surprised reaction from John doe. a giggle suddenly arose, it came from the patient, as he carefully opened his mouth creating a tension between the two. 

 _"Aš žinau kas tu esi"_  he uttered, making Hannibal's eyes shot, which made his laughter grow louder.

[ **translation** : i know who you are . . .]

" _Aš abejoju, kad. . . Abejoju, kad jūs net žinoti savo vardą."_  Hannibal uttered calmly, smirking at him.

 **[translation** : i doubt that . . . I doubt that you even know your own name.]

"my  _friends_  want to talk to you . . . i recommend that you cooperate with us . . ." Hannibal added in English, as he stood up and gestured for the two to come in. As Hannibal took a step to the other side of the door, the patient uttered an unsettling set of phrases that almost triggered the Psychiatrist's rage.

 _"nužudei ją. . . nužudei Mischa"_ the patient uttered.

[ **translation** : you killed her . . . you killed Mischa]

this made Hannibal turn, as he struggled to keep his cool, which is a feat in itself, as the psychiatrist always seemed to maintain a façade of perpetual tranquility.

He went back to John doe's side, and lowered himself to his ear.

 _"Jums bus mano kito valgio"_  Hannibal said in a breathy whisper, as his maroon eyes glared at the man, which made him shiver in fear.

 **[translation** : you will be my next meal ]

 


	15. Doctor Stag

"I think it's recommendable to get the boy to therapy" Hannibal uttered in a statement of a parental-like consultation.

"What do you mean?" Jack's instinctive response, about the silenced John Doe.

"He obviously knew English, i spoke to him in keywords of certain aspects in a teenagers life, and it seems that was enough to silence him. . . " Hannibal said, portraying a devastated care for the unknown participant.

". . . I concluded that, his lack of verbal communication is a result of the trauma that was induced. . . He, right now as an amputee, feels helpless and has a lack of self acceptance. As the killer took an essential physical part of him, it took his emotional stability as well. . . It would be more beneficial in our part if he starts to communicate. . . Which has manifested to this" Hannibal added, creating a seasoned reason to have the patient in his grasp.

"Are you up for the challenge, doctor Lecter?" Jack proceeded to imply, a large possibility for the unorthodox psychiatrist to do his work.

"If it is truly relevant to the case, I would be happy to help. Especially for a friend" Hannibal uttered, as he laid a hand on Jack's shoulder, simulating closeness.

"Thank you. . . " a distant response from Jack, as he gave a friendly accepting smile.

Meanwhile Will just watched closely at the two men, in a wide distanced position. He questioned the bond that has been developing between the two, or was it simply a jealous thought in his part.

Suddenly, a spontaneous echoing of a loud ringing captured the attention of the three. It came from Jack's jacket pocket, he immediately moved away to answer the call, as it was unsurprisingly from the lab.

The doctor made his way to Will's side. Hannibal looked his patient closely, examining him, making Will a glow of red spread from his cheeks.

Hannibal immediately a hand over the others forehead, and the other on his.

"Are you alright,Will? You seem to be a bit warmer then the usual human body temperature. Maybe I should get you home to rest. . . " the doctor stated, making an instinctual deduction.

"No, believe me I'm fine. I guess I'm just a bit tired, but I'm fine" Will said in a jittery, yet calm response, as their distance were mere inches from each other.

"Will understand that your health is more important than this case, do not over exert yourself. As I have observed, one of your flaws is being too selfless in a sense of your own self preservation. You seem to enjoy the risks of a case or kill" Hannibal uttered, in a concerned manner.

"Well there really is no sense in self preservation. As the way I see it, in the end we would always end up being consumed by the darkness." Will muttered, as a change in atmosphere dragged on.

"So you embrace the darkness with no contempt or fear?" Hannibal queried.

"The interesting thing is i have always had a friend in the pitch black darkness. I find its existence compelling" Will uttered looking far, frowning in his own spiral of thoughts.

"Darkness gives a sense of privacy that light does not provide, as madness resides at the void which lays in between.

Light gives us, a certain level of vulnerability that distorts our perception if the underlying beauty, of the human emotional void" the doctor added, smirking at Will's mental understanding.

It was a complex system of possibilities in his mind, being bind by his deteriorating rationality. For the doctor, Will is becoming a piece of art, slowly being painted in myriad strokes of layered paint.

"We've got news" Jack shouted from his place, as he steadily approached the two.

"What is it?" Will uttered in interest.

"We've got a lead on the head case. . . It seems our victim has been visiting St. Mary's hospital for the youth, in a constant schedule, which is every Friday and Saturday for the past two months, at 11 pm.

She's been visiting a doctor called  _Dr. Stag,_ the lab looked up the list of doctors in the hospital, none of the names in the list match this Dr. Stag. Brian thinks this maybe an alias for one of the doctors, but nothing really fits. . .

We asked hospital what they were treating her for, but because of Doctor-patient confidentiality, all they could tell us was, it was about a quote  _psychiatric problem_.

And lucky for us, there are only two psychiatric doctors present at that time every Friday and Saturday, doctors Frederick Chilton and Alana Bloom" Jack said in a lengthy explanation.

"This must be a mistake, I personally know both. They can't possibly do such a horrendous crime" Hannibal said vouching for the two, as he wanted to even the up coming battle.

"Doctor Lecter, not all killers act insane, for all you know they could be your neighbors or siblings. No one can truly know the capabilities of a person. Even if it is you that is vouching for them, that does not exempt them from investigative procedures" Jack uttered.

Hannibal felt a great amusement from this situational construction, the progression of the investigation answered his dark humor.

To him, It was truly fascinating how blind some are because of a fictitious concept of loyalty and trust, as he knew how easy it was to sway.

Especially in the case of the Jones twins, as they sold each other for their own selfish freedoms. He particularly enjoyed the part, where even his gentle touch made them shiver in fear.

 


	16. Kings

"I would need your cooperation . . . Tell me what is your name?" Hannibal said in a pressuring voice, hidden in a façade of a concerned man.

John Doe remained silent, not moving from his seat that was across the psychiatrist. A hand placed itself on the child's shoulder.

"We won't hurt you, we are trying to help you here . . . So please. . . " Will said, as he sat beside the boy, which irritated the doctor immensely. The boy looked at Will with a distressed yet calm look, in which he used to find falsities in his statement. . . And miraculously found none.

"  . . . O-on-one. . . Of . . . El-iven . . . Ki-ngz . . ." The boy said in slurred English, it was thick accented and hesitant. It sent bells in the doctors ears, while Will seemed to be quite ignorant of the accent.

As well as this pieced words confused the two, Will expressed it through a hollering facial expression, in opposition to Hannibal's icy glare.

"What does that even mean?!" Will stated before the other, as a baffled look, drew upon the two.

But the boy remained silent, refusing to say anymore. Will gave a look of disappointment, which gave a striking impression on the doctor.

" I think it's better that we let him rest for today . . . " Hannibal said, persuading the Will for a momentary privacy with the now new patient of the doctor.

". . . A visit to your dogs should be in place for now . . . as an primal interaction would be beneficial for you, Will. As you also need your time alone, I'll stay here with the child for a while for a psychological evaluation" the doctor added, creating sense to the statements of such a spontaneous invitation.

"are you sure you don't need me, here?" Will said, looking at the child endearingly, as an image of the victim crept in his mind, that slowly consumed him. a film of thought buried his vision,  as images of possible tortures played in his mind.

"i think we'd be perfectly fine, with you gone for just a few hours" Hannibal stated giving a grin, that was presented as kindly as possible.

with that Will silently nodded, and immediately left, creating a vibration from the slammed door. The doctor, on the other hand went to the patient's side, a surge of fear tingled the patient's numbing limbs. a hand, tilted the patient's chin a few degrees to look him in the eye. Maroon met blue, the clashing colours, blended their momentary relationship.

"Dilated pupils, I see that you fear me . . ." Hannibal uttered, with a smirk across his face, which petrified the other. the doctor smoothed the blemish on the other's cheek, creating a twitch as physical response.

"now, explain to me what  _one of kings_  is?" Hannibal said, giving a kind gestured comfort, as he left the boy's side to be in his leather recliner.

"SPEAK!" the doctor demanded, creating a jolt from the other.

"b-oo. . . bo-ok" a stuttering response came about, pleasing the other in a deviated way.

a snicker echoed from the four walls, which distracted the child. A slicing gaze softened, as Hannibal spoke.

" Bible, 1 kings chapter 11 'The Sins of  _Solomon_ _'_  . . . am I correct?" Hannibal said creating a shiver down the boy's spine.

"yes" the other said, finally completing a word from the English language.

"Solomon . . . " the name rolled in the doctor's tongue.

"well Solomon, If you agree, starting from today I would be asking you requests that require your loyalty . . . Unlike your unfaithful biblical counter part . . . that is if you want me to be as gracious as your  _God_ in verses 11 to 13" Hannibal said in a simplistically malicious way, that he paired with a smile.

the boy immediately nodded, not saying a word. little drops of tears rolled down his cheeks, as the luster in them faded with fear, as the doctor's hands grabbed the younger man's throat. a gradual tightening prevented the boy's breathing. Solomon, put his hands to the doctor's, to release him from the threatening grip, to no avail.

"of course loyalty starts with trust . . . do you trust me?"Hannibal said, charmingly as he tightens his grip even more.

the boy frantically nodded, as he could not speak from the blockage.

"if so, release your hands, and trust that I would not kill you . . ." Hannibal said eerily calm.

the choking boy's eyes blurred, weakness eating him away, slowly stealing his strength. with no choice, he pulled down his hands to the sides of the chair, as his face lost almost all movement and tears flowed solemnly down. Hannibal then, released him, the boy immediately gasped for air his hands touching the place where Hannibal held him.

"very good" the doctor stated, looking down on the till struggling teen.

Hannibal then turned his back, and fetched a glass of water which he offered and was gladly accepted by the teen. Still fear stricken, Solomon held the glass with both hands examining it's content, before putting his lips on the rim.

" . . .   Jūs esate Fizinė apraiška, baimės" the boy muttered, looking Hannibal in the eyes.

[ **translation:**. . . you are the physical manifestation of fear]

"yes, I am . . . but everyone needs fear to survive and move on, as an emotional numbness can create an isolated cage of danger" Hannibal said smirking at the comment.

"tada kodėl tai, kad žmogus visada su jumis?" the boy asked, looking absently to the side as he finally calmed down.

[ **translation:** then why is that man always with you?]

"which one?" the doctor said in monotony.

"vienas skambinate, Will" Solomon said, showing his intellectual prowess and distinct interest in the man, that has lived to be seemingly blind from the mask of the doctor's indefinite kindness.

 **[translation:**  the one you call, Will]

"I keep him, simply because of his invincibility and unabated resistance to me. he surprises me, unlike others that are born to die and be eaten . . . " Hannibal muttered dully.

" nenugalimumo?" an itching remark was released from the boy.

[ **translation:** invincibility?]

"invincible because he doesn't play fool to me, he knows what I am capable of but is ironically blinded by trivial things called emotions" Hannibal said quite knowing the presently tense relationship they are harboring.

" kaip jis ne kvailas, kad savo baimę?" Solomon said stoically.

 **[** **translation:**   how is he not a fool to your fear?]

"simply because, it is not easy to cultivate fear in a demented mind. . ." Hannibal said in a brink of a metaphysical expression of rejoice.

"You will tell me the supposed message of the  _killer . . ._ But for now do exactly as I tell you. . . do not fail me" Hannibal said manipulatively, as the boy just responded, once again in a nod.

a few moments later, shifty knocks on the door of the office echoed. it was unsurprisingly Will, coming back from his visit to the FBI department office, as the dogs were confiscated after Hannibal took in Will, for the time being.

The room was silent, plainly sobbing was heard around. As the boy was arched in an embrace from Hannibal. It was a sorrowful theatrical scene in a shakespearian play, created through a realistic stage of human activity.

Hannibal put his finger to his lips, gesturing Will for silence, in which he complied to.

Moments pass and Hannibal let Will in on the event, after the sobbing of the child subsided.

"He was an orphan . . . Adopted by the killer, just to be slaughtered, which added to his distorted out look on family, which I intend to fix. He has locked his speech to the point of muteness" Hannibal said, rubbing the back of the supposed tragedy stricken boy.

"I would ask you to help me care for him . . . In a sense that we would be his pseudo parents." Hannibal added, as the boy finally looked up at Will with such pleading eyes.

"Are you asking me to be your adoption partner?" Will asked blatantly.

"Well in a way, yes" The doctor said relishing in a playful shyness.

"If that is what he wants . . . I don't see the problem" Will uttered quite surprised with such a sensitive request.

Hannibal gently held Will's hand as he uttered. . .

"We are now a family. . . "


	17. Sins of the piano

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry i went on a two week hiatus, i was REALLY busy finishing up some work.
> 
> Personally (as a share) I love that they are going domestic!!!! I love it when characters go domestic!!!
> 
> Mostly because they show a mutuality in their attraction to each other, and it shows a bit of kink to it hahahahhahhahah. 
> 
> Spoiler alert: fan service. 
> 
> Comment what you think of it anyway enjoy!

Solomon looked at his reflection with disinterest, he touched the bruising spot that Hannibal dared to take him. 

He wrapped his hands around his neck, feeling the simulation of dread filling him. Soon he felt his hands lose strength, just as before. It was an infuriating moment for the reckless teen, for once in his life he was truly powerless.

He pressed two fingers on the spot where Hannibal's index finger was. It had a bitter sting to it, that prevented him to press even harder.

"No matter how long you stare at that mirror, bruises don't go away easily. . . "Hannibal said as he stood in the door frame.

It's been a few days since the incident, and everyday the boy would repeat these actions like a ritual. It seemed to entertain Hannibal, to the disturbance of Solomon.

" Tai ne sutrins, bet mirties ženklas. . ."the child said in a sullen state.

[translation:  
This is not a bruise, but the mark of death. . .]

"But death only harms, in the guidance of God's grace and wrath. . . " 

[translation:  
then what God do you believe in!]

"Irony is part of the human essence of existence. . . As with out pain, the concept of pleasure, will not be understood. . . We are all part of a metaphysical equilibrium" Hannibal uttered as an philosophical retort.

"Everyone thirst fear, it gives an exhilaration to all boring existence" Hannibal said staring at the boy, waiting for an reaction, but none came from the boy.

The doorbell rang a tune of a single C key of a piano. Hannibal's eyes gave a mischievous spark, as he heard the echoing tune, he looked at the boy intensely signaling his cooperation, to subdue the upcoming visitor's suspicion.

Hannibal walked down a flight of wooden stairs, each furnished with carefully crafted carvings on each step, glossed with varnish. 

He calmly opened the door, giving an welcoming smile with a faint hint of dread. It was Jack, not to the surprise of the other, as Hannibal anticipated this spontaneous visitation from the start.

"Good evening . . . "Jack uttered slowly, as the chilling season crept on him.

"Jack, good evening what brings you to visit at this hour?" Hannibal said, gesturing Jack to come in.

"I wanted to interview the boy for a mome-" Jack said before being cut off, by the doctor.

"I don't think that would be possible. . . " the doctor uttered, cutting off the agent before giving him a domineering look. 

"Jack as a friend, I don't think that would be advisable, the boy is scared, disabled and evidently temporarily unable to speak in English. . . Being interviewed about the case may cause even more damage then what was already done" Hannibal added, feigning concern.

"But this is for giving the child justice, for what has been done to him!" Jack said booming his chops.

"Is that really justice? That is revenge Jack, you are asking for revenge." Hannibal said heightening the pitch of his voice to be on par with the agent.

"It isn't revenge if I know that I am right!" Jack said with immense annoyance pouring out of him.

"Are you sure this is about the child or is this about the case!" Hannibal said as a statement, now glaring at the man.

"You've been defaced in the eyes of your fellow FBI agents . . . Taunted by the ripper, leaving you with cold murders that you knew you couldn't stop, do you really think that your irrational spontaneousness would help a mentally wounded child?" Hannibal said as an echoing yet hollow conscience of the agent. 

"I have been working with the child for almost two weeks, he still hasn't told us his name . . . So for the sake of the child's well being please understand that this situation" The doctor added, Jack looked a bit dejected as he saw a flaw in his logic But nodded his head in the process.

"But I'm not leaving here until we give the child a name. We can go on calling the child like a . . . Thing!" Jack uttered loud enough to wake the sleeping Will, who rushed down to the lounge, where the unruly events are happening. 

"What is happening?!" Will said, as he felt cold sweat trickle down his back. After years of being in the investigative business, hearing loud noises became an implanted red flag for danger to Will.

"Jack was visiting. . . We were discussing the child's name" the doctor uttered as a very brief explanation of the encounter. 

"Name?" Will muttered the word to himself.

"Yes a NAME, we can't keep on treating the child like evidence!" Jack said in such a stately manner that is shook Will's morality.

"Jack, he isn't a dog, that you can name at random . . . A name is an identity, uniquely his . . . We can't choose for him!" Will said, looking a bit aggravated, by the constant exchanging of voices that grew louder and louder, as the rebuttals continued.

Silence consumed the room, as creeping foot steps lowered the boy down to their location. He looked hushed, and a bit withdrawn as he settled an unabated gaze at Jack. 

This consequently unsettled the agent, as he looked deep with in the boy's blue void. 

". . . I think it's best if you leave" Hannibal said, as Jack immediately turned his back and walked of to the distant.

"And as for you two, i think it's appropriate for you, both to resume your slumber" Hannibal said as he guided the two back to their individual rooms. Each tucking them in enough that it hid the appalling monstrous stag that lay beneath his amorous exterior. 

the doctor then proceeded to his study, where a black piano stood in its antique glory. he smoothed the glossy wood of the grand piano that stood before him, he lifted its cover, and adjusted himself in the stool. He relaxed his fingers, and placed them strategically on top of the needed keys.

An Echoing blissful melody emerged, the tune was either of sorrow or romance depending upon the listener. The doctor tapped the keys with a bounce, releasing the emotional tension.

A creak of the wooden floor boards, prevented the pianist to continue his sonata. 

"Hello Will" Hannibal stated, he turned to face the man draped in a blanket. 

"What piece is it?" Will asked as he motioned to the doctor's side. 

"Schubert-Liszt: Ständchen" Hannibal uttered, as he moved to the right side of the stool to offer space for the man to occupy, Will obliged.

"Would you like to learn how to play the piece?" Hannibal asked, as the other instinctively nodded.

The doctor took his patient's hands and placed it on top of the needed keys, he then put his hands on top of the Will's to press the needed keys. In his position an arm was wrapped around the smaller man, creating a guided half embrace.

Suddenly Will's hands stiffen from the contact, and a blush spread through out his face. 

"Relax your fingers, music is made through emotion and rhythm. What you are feeling would be expressed by the piano, so what is the feeling you want to showcase Will?" Hannibal queried, as Will breathed in and relaxed.

"Satisfaction" Will answered, looking up at the taller man. 

"If so press each key with that word, consuming your piece" Hannibal uttered, and Will complied. 

The tune that came out was slow in contrast with the doctor's, but it was enough to put a smile on the brunette's face. It bore a simply aesthetic beauty that enchanted the mood. 

A smooth hand caressed the skin of the smaller man, as the last key was pressed, so did the two lips locked, in the blazing moment of heat.


	18. Ignis fatuus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will finally showcase the hannigram in this story, maybe I'll put a little sexual tension here and there hahahahaha !!!!! I'm so sorry it took about 16 chapters before it kicked in, I hope it was worth the wait.
> 
>  
> 
> as usual please comment what you think of it and enjoy
> 
> \--------------------------------------------------------------

The two finally parted after the first contact, the heat imprinted a sizzling sensation on their lips. Will was too dumbfounded to even speak, he just locked eyes with the seemingly nonchalant doctor.

A blush crept on the patients cheeks, a dizzy feeling consumed and spiraled his mind. His pulse raised and hands frigidity, as he couldn't make them stay still. 

"I-I . . . " Will managed to stutter, still in a state on shock. 

A hand placed itself on to the back of the special agents neck, making him shiver at contact. Will become extremely sensitive to the movements of the doctor, as he watched him intently wondering what might be his next move.

The doctor's hand crept up to the lower half of Will's hair and played with it, making Will fluster. 

"What would you call this situation?" Hannibal said, collectedly, as he anticipated a response from Will.

"I-I don't know. . . " Will managed to say, barely audible.

". . . Is that so . . . " Hannibal muttered, a little disappointed with such a vogue response. 

Hannibal inched forward, making the twos face close, but not enough to touch. 

"Then what do you feel about this situation?" Hannibal asked, this time creating a silent tension as he examined Will's features carefully, seeing the dark shade of red intrigued him. 

"I don't know . . . I don't know what I'm feeling . . . " Will said, while his breath shortened, the closer the doctor got.

"Then describe it for me" Hannibal challenged, as his other hand rested on Will's right thigh.

"I feel warm, I can't breath and am having shortness of breath an-" Will's vivid depiction, was cut of as the doctor lunged forward.

Another kiss ensued, this time it was more sensual. As the hand on Will's neck held him in place. 

Will didn't resist nor did he want to, his hands rested upon the other's chest. His hands clenched the cloth on the others body. As they parted once more, a gasp slipped Will's lips in this frantic moment.

Hannibal then stood up and dusted off, in a theatrical way.  Hannibal then looked in an abyss of thought wearing a distressed expression. 

"I am truly sorry . . . " The doctor stated, looking ohhh so kindly at the other. 

This puzzled the other, making, Will perplexed in the situation. He couldn't think straight, his mind was in a complete faze. 

The pressure on his lips was all he could remember, his mind was for the first time in his life, what we call blank. Nothing could be processed at this exact moment.

"I think it would be best if we did not indulge in this activity, it was my mistake. . . I would take responsibility for this event" Hannibal uttered, as if a stain of guilt has touched his soul.

"What?" Will uttered in confusion, once again evaluating the sudden tempest of a situation. 

" you-I . . . I don't understand. . . Doctor Lecter, tell me what was that?!" Will said, as he was now also on his feet. It was quite a silently frantic moment, only looks were exchanged before a voice finally became audible. 

"It was a blurry moment on my own professionalism, I am truly sorry." That was all Hannibal could say, before Will locked himself up in his room, pondering about the event that just happened.

On the other hand, the doctor did not bat an eye, he was intrigued but expected Will's actions in a very calculated manner. He played with all the possibilities and probabilities, invoking an array of amusing reactions. 

He found emotion as tasteful in essence and spirit, but he couldn't cultivate this primal and social function. But he did understand malicious emotions and feelings, especially the thrill of the game. 

He looked at the grandfather clock, as its pendulum swung left to right. The sound of crashing drums echoed, bouncing off of the rooms walls. 2 am, it's arms indicated. As for Hannibal, the urge was back. 

He peeked through the door of his study, checked to see if anyone would witness his untimely departure. Luckily none was in sight.

He moved ever so slowly to the entrance of the house, avoiding all the wooden floors creaking panels. He walked out to the chilling open space seeking for his beloved vehicle, and drove off. 

When he arrived at his destination, he wore a dear stalker cap, and hid his golden strands of hair. He also wore a long coat to hide his features, although he dreaded both of these precautions as it was too, inelegant.

A pitchy tone, exclaimed by an actual baritone voice, came from behind.

"Doctor, how's your vacation? Enjoyed it?" A sarcastic voice of serious grit played from behind.

Hannibal did not speak, and just moved on and entered a familiar room, while the voice followed chattering in the process.

"So really doctor Stag, how have you been?" The man taunted, receiving only comically bland chuckles.

"It was lovely, and what about you, how was your . . . Learning experience at Baltimore State hospital for the Criminally insane?" Hannibal finally responded.

"It's was really horrible, but not in the was you think. The food there was terrible! I mean really, what was that mystery stuff?" The man said in an enthusiastic reply.

"But what brings you here doctor?" Hannibal queried, as he sat upon his leather reclining chair.

"I heard you were in quite the interesting predicament, and just wanted to applaud you . . . Managing to get under the FBI's radar. I am simply a fan!" The man in white said, waiting for a sign of discomfort from the other, but received none.

"You seem to be quite satisfied" Hannibal uttered, as he observed the other.

"Very much, thanks to you!" The man uttered, in partial sarcasm.

"So how's Frederick? Has he been probed by the FBI yet? I personally think a little torture is needed to make him admit to his crimes" the man added, as he exchanged his carefree expression with a serious one.

"I have a task that I want you to finish for me. And it involves your favorite doctor Frederick Chilton. . . " Hannibal uttered, as elated expression emerged from the pits of the man's hatred. 

"I'll do it, IF we have a deal . . . " the man uttered demandingly, as Hannibal just nodded.

"Very well, what might be your request?" The psychologist asked, as he looked quite impatiently at the other.

"Give me time to operate him, just enough to make him lose . . . Maybe a few limbs, organs" the man said, before hiving a maniacal laugh.

"Very well" Hannibal uttered, as the other grinned widely enough to be mistaken for the Cheshire cat.

Hannibal whispered his instructions, in a calculated timeline of events. In which the other just kept on nodding in agreement.

Soon after, the man walked off almost reaching the door, before Hannibal called out for him.

"Abel, avoid interacting with the one called Will Graham" Hannibal said looking at Gideon dangerously cold, sending shivers down his spine.

"No need to ask, I don't like interacting with the law" Abel said, before turning his back at the doctor.


	19. Indecisive raise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely readers, Please enjoy the read :) And as usual comment what you think about it.
> 
> Ps. The ages here is all estimated, because no one knows the exact age of these characters.

The enclosed room reeked of the thick scents of both sweat and perfume. As a frail looking man sat in his chair, slamming his hand on the cold iron table. The man immediately regretted his decision, as his hand turned red, while the throbbing feeling of the pulsed bruising spot, plagued his veins.

"I didn't do it! You can't accuse me without proof! Evidence!" The man demanded, masking his pain by gesturing his hand.

It was comical for the new agent that was on the case. She silently giggled to herself, as the pain stricken face psychologist turned to offense.

Jack was also present in the mirror walled room. He silently stayed in a corner, his back touching one of the said walls. He raised a hand to get the younger agent's attention.

"That's enough for today, go to the observers room Miriam. . . I'm going to handle this one." Jack uttered as he stepped closer to the intimidated Chilton.

"Name: Frederick Chilton  
Age: 43  
Current Occupation: Head Administrator of Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally insane and resident psychologist in Saint Mary's Hospital.

Frankly, it's a colorful file to read" Jack said, while taking his seat in front of the irritated psychologist.

"Well, I'm sure everything is in place. And you can't keep me in here, because obviously I didn't do it!" Chilton bargained, a little too smugly for Jack's liking.

" . . . I have read your file twice- no- three times. We are looking for a calculatedly intelligent killer, has medical knowledge and is connected to that god damn hospital.

It says in your file you were in surgical department of medical school,  
but transferred to the psychiatric department of the school under mysterious circumstances. . .

You fit the profil—" Jack stated, before being cut off the doctor.

"I'm sure that is some kind of obscure flattery, but I'm sorry to burst your bubble. . . I don't participate and reciprocate, the physical and mental insanity of my patients. " Frederick said, looking offended by the questioning of his sanity.

"I would have you know, that even if you push that accusation on me. I have a solid alibi, so your wasting your time here, when the real killer is out there!" Chilton said in a fuss.

"If you remain so blinded, you might get bitten." Frederick added muttering in a whisper.

"is that a threat I hear?" Jack said in visible sarcasm.

"none sense, just a friendly reminder . . . of the capabilities, of the people around you." Chilton uttered, looking at one of the one-way mirrors.

This somewhat offended the agents on the other side, as they knew the psychologist was hinting at them. But more specifically a fellow doctor like him.

Jack looked intently at the man's indecisive manner of expression. On the other hand at the observation room, Hannibal motioned for Will to write down his observations of the suspected ripper. Three other agents were present watching intently, a frown marking the creases of their faces more evident.

"this case is just sick . . . " Miriam Lass said, looking at the case file.

" Well it's a normal sunny day at work after all" Brian said sarcastically, as a crack of a smile showed itself on the girl's face.

"tell me about it!" Jimmy uttered aloud, eradicating the two's moment immediately.

Meanwhile the situation between Hannibal and Will has not progressed well, the utter dumbfounded situation made a cocktail of disappointment, expectation, irritation and over all discontent in the Special Agent's mind.

"I really do have an affinity for the tragic . . . " Will muttered to himself, before performing his previous duty. The other three seemed to sense the new tension that hung between the doctor and patient duo, but chose not to meddle in their personal business. 

Soon Jack looked at the window, signalling the end of the questioning and opt the release of the accused, since it was true that there was no concrete evidence to hold him down. this obviously irritated Jack, as Chilton was the resolution to his problems.

" It's him, I know it's him!" Jack uttered, in an irritated manner. As all five observers were rounded up in his office, watch Jack's distress. The head agent came to this resolution, after careful cross examination. Alana Bloom was out of the suspect list, the moment that medical experience was on the table, leaving Chilton to be the lead and only suspect.

Another factor was Jack's obvious discomfort of Chilton's personality. It was truly not to the agent's taste, as his arrogance and narcism was filled the previous location.

"He's ou-" Jack stops as his phone vibrates, before picking up and walked out of the room for the conversation.

But inside the given room, an awkward silence hung, as the previous tension fogged all interaction.

Hannibal looked at his new colleague, a petite blonde woman with striking facial features. She was obviously from a well off family as she wore classic patterned clothes that had brands familiar to the eccentric Hannibal. But being a trainee, she was still a bit gittery, especially with the head agent's presence. She respected and idolized Jack, seeing as she tries to emulate him.

Hannibal approached her, introducing himself. It was their first meeting after all, they proceeded to small talk, as they both seemed to have a common degree, which was psychology. Hannibal observed her in this close range, her fair skin and lean arms seemed to call forth his hunger.

Will was not too pleased with such an instant connection of the two. Scoffing the interaction off his attention, but alas, an accursed feeling of enmity filled him. As he silently stared at the two.

Jack entered the room, breaking the suffering condition of the atmosphere, unfortunately with baring unsettling news.

"There is a new victim, he was identified as Collin Godfrey. . . He was found mutilated at a corn field at The Darlington farm, up east . . . Same MO . . . " Jack uttered dreading his words.

" . . . There was a finger in a box, that was beside it. Beverly has done some tests on it, it checks out as Donna Jones. . . It was doused in formaldehyde" Jack added, as adding a demented factor to the already unsettling situation.


	20. dearly beloved

"He's saving up the body for what exactly ?" Beverly Katz looked perplexed at the new situation, as she swabbed the dismembered cut on the proximal bone of index finger.

It was down right dry, it could already be categorized as mummified. It's state of decay was surprisingly low. Seeing as the little details are still present, such as the little creases around each joint.

Beverly looked closer at the phalange, it was surgically cut. A single swift incision that sliced through the tough tendon.

"Take me to the scene . . . " Will said in a burst, catching the attention of all in the room. His perplexed looked, and disturbed the others in the room with the intensity of his stare.

"Do you really think I'd let you waltz around to a crime scene, when a killer is god damn after you?! Will I may be lenient but Im not stupid!" Jack said in almost a shout, a hard crack in his voice that indicated his seriousness.

"If you want this killer to be found, you hav—" Will uttered ready for a lengthy rebuttal, but Jack was not having any of it.

"No! Understand your place Will, if you don't obey my authority then I'll have to put you on lockdown. . . You won't be able to do anything in that position. So if I were you, I'd choose what my next move would be." Jack said with a deceasing tone.

No one really dared to speak on the disturbed agent's behalf, because all were in favor of Jack's prevention. Truth be told, everyone was worried with Will. His constant ramblings about the actual bodies and scenes have slowly unsettled the others. His unceremonious attitude, changed . . . But no one could point out what exactly it was, but it had a menacingly different atmosphere.

"I think it's best for you to sit this one out for now, Doctor Lecter if you would . . . "Jack added, as he gave a knowing glance at the doctor, in which he received a nod in response.

"Let's go Will" Hannibal uttered, as he placed a coat on the smaller man's shoulders.

Will silently agree, not even giving a gaze at the other's, he just gave a blank stare at Jack. Seemingly to start a challenge, a shiver went down the head agent's spine. . . The look was indecisive and decaying absence of warmth before turning his back to face the door, followed by his Psychiatrist.

As the two reached the costumed Chrysler, no interactions were made. It was as if their relationship is further than strangers . . . And yet closer than friends. A sliding tension, always unintentionally builds around them.

As they sat on the vehicle and shit the doors, Hannibal didn't start up the car immediately and simple immersed in the silence.

"Do you intend to follow your proclivities?" Hannibal said, breaking the silence.

"And what does that have to do with you?" Will answered, having an irritated voice, spout from his lips.

Hannibal stayed silent for a moment and drove, until they reached the red tinted house. Hannibal walkout and called Will forth.

He rang the doorbell, with a petite young man answering. It was Solomon wearing his paired Pajamas. As they entered their home, Hannibal placed the two in his office.

Each seated at least a foot from each other, and the two patients seemed to maintain their puzzled state.

Hannibal then placed a glock 9 handgun at the center of the room, in the surveillance of the two.

"What is that?" Hannibal pointed at the gun, as he himself took a seat at his favoured reclining chair, he elegantly crossed his legs, left over the right as he rested a hand to his lap.

"A gun!" Solomon said enthusiastically, as his English seemingly improved.

"And what does a gun do?" Hannibal queried, as another consuming silence hung within the group.

"They kill" Will said in a surprise response.

"Wrong . . . They do not kill" The psychiatrist muttered, frowning at the boys.

"It is the handler that kills, to choose to shoot or not. . . The decision is all in his power. . . " Hannibal stood up again and picked up the gun, he once again returned to his previous position.

Hannibal looked at the gun so endearingly, like a dormant volcano ready to burst at a sudden date, he pointed the gun directly at Solomon's head.

Solomon was understandably frightened, his body froze and numbed. His hands shook and frigidly clutched on to Will. On the other hand, Will was dumbfounded and was unable to think in this pressuring situation. All he could do was block the boy from the gun's shaft, by throwing himself in front, as Hannibal cocked and triggered the gun.

A loud bang echoed throughout the house, a gasping breath patterned itself as the two patients lay on the ground. Eyes tightly shut as they clung to each other, like a child does to his mother.

"As you can see, everything lies on the handler, the owner per say. . . " Hannibal, knelt and tapped the two, to make them acknowledged their unharmed states.

"I chose not harm or kill, I chose to save. So your determinism concept does not apply to this situation. . . As the ending to every shooting is not predetermined." Hannibal states nonchalantly, as he aided the two to their seats.

Solomon was greatly shaken, and his eyes looked at his father figure so horridly. This awakened a fear in the child's heart, as the thought of a single gunshot echoing through. . . And that was the end of him.

"So all this just for that narcissistic statement of authority?!" Will said, in out rage.

"No. . . " Hannibal uttered, boredom quite evident in his eyes, as he expected more from will. A solely possible coming from him, but he received such a common and marginal answer that resulted in the doctor's dissatisfaction.

"It is a representation, you are the gun, Will . . . Every move you make, is not solely yours but an order. . . Jack is puppeteer, if he needs you he will use you, but it can never be the latter". Hannibal added, to the shockingly unamused look that Will strikes upon him.

"I am the same to you!" Will said, with a climbing tone.

"I am just an instrument, that you can use to compose your symphony! I am not a tool! " Will added, as a hand grabbed the doctor by the collar. A horrible rash decision on Wills part.

"Do not cross me, Will . . . " Hannibal mouthed to Will with no voice, yet the enmity still present in the scene. Will felt a sudden helplessness, like switch has been flicked to make the scene be in the doctor's favor.

Will let go, and took Solomon by the wrist to escape the room.

Will lamented in the events, provoking his self discovery in his howling weakness. He was smitten, with the doctor's attention and care. A dawning fear of a transgressive weakness has appeared, and it was the one he hated the most . . . He was amoured, by sweet words and feelings.

In his seemingly distant façade, in actuality he was weak. In the essence of emotions that he has now felt.


	21. Mare

"Wil- . . . Will . . . Will!" A distant voice called out, echoing sounding more distressed, as the voice grew louder. More desperate.

Will could barely breath, he felt his throat close and his body paralysed in that numbing position. A sharp pain pulled him back to reality, a heavy gasped escaped Will's lips. 

The pain on his right cheek, melded with his tired body. The pain came from a hard strike of a youthful palm, he looked to the side of the bed a panting Solomon, sweat of worry dripping down his chin. His face filled with an unnamed concern.

Will was puzzled on why the boy was present in room, but instantly remembered the events that happened a few hours ago.

Will buried his face in his hand, and reflected.  
"It's back . . . " he muttered, looking around the room. 

The room was a mess, a puddle of sweat spread through out the bed sheets. His limbs were cold to the touch, and his eyelids kept on twitching. 

Solomon inched closer to Will to see if he was already settled and calm, but as he reached his hand to the older man. Will immediately swatted it out, hitting the hand hard in return.

"Don't touch me!" Will demanded in a moment of mixed fear and disgust. 

Solomon retreated to a corner just observing Will, as he drowned in his rejection. He watched the man's every move, and noticed he was shivering and breathless. 

"I . . . Call Hannibal" Solomon said in tattered English, Will shot a glare in the boy's direction.

"No! I refuse any help coming from him!" Will said stubbornly, knitting his brows.

"No! You . . . Is Like this!" Solomon, retaliated and ran to his benefactor's door, thumping on it like a mad man. 

A calm pair of feet, walked over and unlocked the door. A cold pair of eyes, stared at the boy blankly. 

" . . . Will . . . " was all Solomon needed to say, to understand the degree of the situation just by judging on his expression.

The two hurried to Will's quarters and slammed the door open, Will was gone . . . 

Hannibal and Solomon scoured every inch of the flamboyant house, and not a sign of Will to be seen. Hannibal then took out his phone, and dialled the only number he could think of,

"Hello good evening Jack, It seems there is an emergency. Will is missing. . . " Hannibal said, in a tone between calm and distressed. 

"On my way."  That was all Jack said, before ending the call.

The constant tapping, it resonates in a series of expensive oxfords. Uneasily walked back and forth from the study, the doctor looked out the glass pane to see a thick sheet of white falling to a blanket. 

A flurry of the loud door bell, made the psychiatrist pace in a hurried state. Disappointment and irritation pelted the doctor's expression, as the figure waited patiently in the cold to be offered in.

"What brings you here ?" Hannibal said, in a rude context.

"I have a little headache that seemed, like only you could heal. . . " the other spouted in a sarcastic tone. 

He peered at the other as they seated themselves in the lounge. Hannibal's head rested upon his knuckle, as the appendage rested upon the chair's arm. While the other squirmed in his seat like an eager child.

"What is your purpose?" Hannibal uttered once more, in a paraphrased manner. 

"Everyone needs a friend to help them out in the most peculiar of situations. . . As you may know, I am in need of clearing my name of a certain murderer's crime . . . I believe you have been butting heads with a chief of the investigative department. So I —" the other spoke, not hiding an inch of shame for using such underhanded tactics. 

"And what makes you think, that I am . . . The friend you need?" Hannibal uttered, raising a brow, as he got up to approach a stand, filled with a variety of expensive alcoholics. 

He chose an elegant bottle of whiskey, and pulled out two clear plain glasses from the cupboard. 

"Because a little birdy told me, that one of them seems to fancy you and the others seems to trust your flawed judgement. . . " the other muttered, to the annoyance of Hannibal. 

"Flawed? My judgment is not flawed, it is the perspective that is flawed. From where you stand, I am flawed like any other. But if you look to another's you'll see nothing but a higher judgement." Hannibal said in response, as he poured the whiskey in the glasses and handed it to the man. 

He sniffed the aroma of the thick amber alcohol, and took a small sip. The man's brow raised as the oak sensation tingle his buds. It was heavy yet smooth as it flowed, with a little punch of strength by the throat.

"Macallan, expensive choice . . . Your aesthetics on taste didn't change at all" the man replied in response to the taste. 

"Beauty is taste and taste is beauty. . . " the doctor replied, playing a fond tone in his voice.

"But to you, it is more about the elegance and satisfaction that your mask sees necessary than the taste itself. . . A mask of aristocracy, fitting for you even in essence. . . " the man uttered, displeasure sewing his tongue. 

Hannibal looked at the old varnished clock, ticking in such a familiar pace that it's sound blended with the environment. 

"Your stay has been settled, if that is all what you intended to tell me. You have ten minutes to leave this vicinity along with all the traces of you. . . As I believe you know the protocol with contacting . . . Doctor Stag. " Hannibal said in a calm voice, as he calculated Jack's precise arrival.

The man nodded, as a smirk crept to his cheeks.

"Good bye doctor Lecter. . ." The man said playing the name on his chapped lips.

"As do you doctor Chilton." 

And with that the door slammed, as Hannibal looked to the staircase's direction. There, Solomon seated silently watching all the movements that surrounds his territory.

Hannibal stepped closer and closer to the child, making the child froze in fear. A hand raised to Solomon's direction. adrenaline pumped heavily in the child't vein, as he prepared for a hard bash by raising his arms for protection.

But instead of a hard beating, a gentle ruffling of his hair as the doctor walked passed him.

In utter shock, the only thing that the child could mutter was . . . 

"Where is Will?"


	22. phone ring

The paved way was the medium of the constant patters of distressed steps, the former quiet household is now swarmed with navy blue clad officers.

"Im sorry for this . . . All I am doing now is for finding Will" Jack said apologetically, as he walked to the doctors side. As they on looked towards the house, their feet steadily planted at the spacious yard.

"It is fine Jack, we are all worried for Will, and if this helps us find him. I would be willing to offer my house anytime." Hannibal said, placing a hand at the agent's shoulder.

Solomon on the other hand, stayed silently at Hannibal's side like a child with his mother. And watched on and observed, as a face of distress painted upon the boy's face. As he feared the possibility of someone taking his 'home', his new home.

Hannibal seemed to feel the boy's perplexed feelings and gave him a small pat on the shoulders, to wake him up back to reality.

"But I do hope that all my belongings are in place, some are antiques given to me by my aunt and uncle. . . They are . . . Irreplaceable in both, sentiment and value" Hannibal trying to simulate care and memory, as he turned back to Jack.

"Don't worry, I put them on strict orders to put back what ever isn't needed in the investigation . . . But I also wanted to apologise about the fact that we could only investigate this late. . . " Jack uttered, as he hinted the fact of the federal law on missing persons.

It is a well known fact that if a person is missing person is a teen or adult, it should take them at least twenty four hours for the report to be official and mobilisation will come soon after. And that is what exactly happened in this scenario.

But this was to Hannibal's advantage, as he disposed all his tools and evidences that tie him up with the suspected 'Doctor Stag'. Everything was wiped clean, and everything was in top shape, again emulating the man that everybody loved to follow as a guide of the exemplary aesthetic taste.

After more than four hours of   
The search team's constant trampling over the vicinity, they finally stopped and unformed Jack of their findings. Nothing.

He disappeared without a trace, except for an odd set of foot prints that were slowly being buried in. It seemed a bit limp, as he dragged his left leg down the muddy path.

"Sir, nothing has been found that would lead to the missing person's location. . . The scene is too clean, it seemed staged even." A man in a blue uniform whispered to the agent's ear. As his eyes locked at the man beside the head.

"Staged? Even the room?" Jack said a bit shocked, considering it was an odd fix, usually even in the most difficult of cases the tiniest bit of evidences could be found.

"We only found the stains of sweat in the bed sheets. We took at test it was from the missing agent. . . But nothing else." The investigator answered, looking at Jack with a visible distress.

"Thank you for your report agent Carlson, i think it's better to 'out' for now" Jack uttered, as the young agent brushed his chestnut locks and waved for his men to back out.

And soon all traces of them, disappeared. Except for the little misplaced items, that only Hannibal could identify. 

He and Jack sat at the lounge, perplexed by this peculiar situation. Each drowning in their own spiral of thought, as Solomon hermit himself in Will's room.

Jack for one, recounted Will's possible actions and scenes that might have played out, in this neat and protected area of Baltimore. This area were usually specified and labeled for the upper class citizens, as land here were expensive and secluded to comforts of the whims of the rich. But it was well protected by patrolling officers and some even have private guards, roaming their properties.

While the thought of the doctor seemed to be compelled, by the question of Will's desire to leave. He knew that even in that particularly deathly situation and threat, Will wouldn't leave his care on his own.

Will was Hannibal's little experiment, and he won't let him get away. Even in the subject of life and death, Will was his prey and only his.

"It seems I have to go, Bella would be waiting for me. . . Call me if anything happens. . . " Jack said a bit hesitant of this decision, but he knew it was best to give this quote, 'family' some air.

As Jack seemed to be informed about their current . . . Predicament. It was frankly quite obvious that Will's flustered behavior, was fueled by the doctor's charm. It also doesn't take being Sherlock Holmes to understand that the two seemingly opposite figures balance each other.

So dubbing their current interactive situation as a 'family' wouldn't be too far off.

As Jack slammed the door closed, and drove off to his vehicle, Hannibal just watched to see if the agent's presence evaporate in the foggy road. A vibration emerged from Hannibal's right pocket.

He pulled out his smartphone, as it played an awfully familiar tune of moonlight sonata.

An unknown number emerge on the screen. He sneered at the phone with annoyance, as the calming yet trembling tune became noise in the deafening silence of the room. 

"Hello?" Hannibal uttered, as he waited patiently for the response.

Just a steady pattern of panting in a hitched breath, was audible.

"I . . . Have him . . . " a voice said, with a lisp in his tone.

". . . Then I suggest that you return him to me in one piece . . . " Hannibal said with an aggressive force.

"Doctor, I have always admired you . . . You have been my inspiration of . . . Perfecting my human . . . Dissection . . . I would send you my offering tomorrow . . . " the raspy voice uttered before hanging up.


	23. True demon

A brown box has arrived wrapped in a thin sheet of manila paper all tied up with a little rope, a plain white card wedged between the intersecting cord.

It was left at the doctor's porch so indiscreetly, it was easy to spot in the maroon and beige coloured veranda.

The doctor cautiously picked it up and placed it in the lounge. He examined it's exterior, then removed the card before pulling on the bow. It smoothly slipped from the item, and dishevelled the protective paper.

What the doctor saw as he lifted the cover of the brown box, rested a wooden one. It laid there snuggly with bits of shredded paper to prevent too much movement.

The wooden box was varnished and decorated with text of unknown origins, it had intricate depiction of a demon that sat at the centre.

His wings spread widely, stretching across the curvature of the lid. His body stood at the middle as he seemingly held the lock in his grip.

The doctor unlocked the box, in a single click, it sprung open. . . An ear.

The ear was placed so carefully, not cause creases in it's velvet lining. And yet little drips of blood found it's way as it stained the red cloth to an even darker shade.

The skin of dismembered ear, was pasty and obviously of white origin. The incision was rigid yet was made by a sharp blade, in a failed attempt in a single stroke cut.

The doctor frowned at the discovery, glaring at the box with enmity. The ticking sound of the grandfather clock added to the tension and hatred he felt, as the deafening silence was present beyond that single sound.

He picked up the ear, with his bare hand and called upon Solomon.

Solomon appeared, looking frightened at the sight of the dismembered ear. His hands became frigid, sweat dripped down his back. He looked down on his stump of a leg, that is now resting upon a prosthetic limb.

It's been four months prior since his two benefactors gave him another chance in life by giving him his freedom of movement through the plastic leg.

It was after discovering the doctor's imminent malevolent nature surface. And soon the boy was cognisant of the contrived façade of the doctor.

Hannibal let the boy view the morbid item, and presented it to him with such habituated ease.

"Eat . . . " Hannibal looked at the lad with such detrimental speech, looking so ensconce in fright.

But he was a puppet, he knew he had no leverage or power to win this fray. He took the piece, and hesitantly held it in his hand. His hand twitched, feeling the cold yet gelatinous texture of the 'meat'.

The boy felt like releasing his insides, as he moved it closer and closer to his lips. He looked at the doctor with such pleading eyes, asking, hoping for him not to execute the order.

But nothing came out from the doctor's lips . . . Just an amused smile, waiting for the boy to consume the quote 'victual' item.

The boy placed the piece in his mouth as he internally cursed importunate existence. He felt the the texture of the ear, being smooth with rough sand paper like exterior, that was both soft and rubbery to chew on. The taste was mainly salty yet bland.

An then he finally swallowed, he felt the ear pass his throat. He gagged and choked at the appalling sensation. But he knew he had to succeed in this seemingly benign, task.

Solomon panted as the realization of eating human flesh spiraled through his thoughts, creating more distress in his part. . . He was now a Cannibal.

Hannibal came forth to the boy's side as he held his throat, just like the doctor has in their first violent encounter. His hands shook uncontrollably, tears formed in his eyes, as they dripped down the boy's plush cheeks.

"I-I . . . sinned" he said in seemingly broken english. He was now truly broken . . .

"No, as Sin requires you to do wrong in the eyes of your God. . . You have not sinned but obeyed. You cannot be impugn by cadre of sinners as they are more tainted" Hannibal said with a blandish tone.

The boy looked at the doctor's eyes . . . Looking for a hint of a lie. As poison words washed all his wary, as he believed the doctor for he was lost .

The doctor placed a hand on the boy's shoulder. As a sign of acceptance, the boy was in his own twisted confirmed to be his 'son'.

The doctor seated the boy in the couch, as the boy gradually relaxed. While the doctor stood up and read the white card, with a smudged text that said. . .

"Baal . . . " was written in smooth cursive with a fountain pen, that was smudged at the end.

Hannibal picked up the card, and threw it at the tear stained boy's lap, as he waited for a reply or a reaction.

The boy's eyes shot open, after reading the word.

"Where is Will?" Hannibal said, in a dreadful manner as he glared at the card with a frown.

"Do-n't knoe. . . Gone" the boy spoke in broken text, as his mouth seemed to dry and his skin seemed to pale, as he stared on.

"Then who is 'Baal'?" Hannibal said, as he crept closer to the boy.

"How. You . . . Knoe-I knoe?" The boy said in present distress.

Solomon did have a point, what drove the doctor to this conclusion puzzled the boy. As he in the eyes of many was innocent of this situation.

"Your name . . . Your presence it's self is too peculiar, too staged to be of coincidence." The doctor stated, as if it was an obvious fact.

But the boy's expression remained perplexed and confused at what the doctor said.

"In Christian mythology king Solomon, the wisest man on earth, commanded 72 demons through the lesser key given by God. . . These demons held significant knowledge and power each designed to be a teachers of language, arts, science and so on.

But they were deadly and corruptive as well. . . You are no coincidence in this situation are you?" Hannibal added, speaking in such a matter of fact manner that, it was obvious he knew the boy' answer.

"It was really a challenge to make you trust me, 'Doctor Stag'. "the boy said in perfect english.

A curve of a smile finally drew itself on the boy's face. As he fixed his seated position, and wiped off the fake tears from his face. He sighed and put on a smug expression of victory on hiss face.

"As do you . . . A worthy opponent or ally, is the question. . . " Hannibal said, finally meeting the true owner of the presence in front of him.

"A fan. . . More accurately a friend. As I am presently in a affable mood. " the boy spoke in such eloquent language that seemed to be on par with the doctor himself.

"But let's talk business, to get your little . . . Admirer alive, I want something in return that I know only you can provide . . . " the boy uttered, as a smirk grew off of the sheepish smile he previously had.


	24. Coven of Lamentation

"What I want is simple . . . " Solomon said adjusting his position. As his resting hands lifted, while he gestured a dramatic flick.

"I want you to assassinate a very troublesome character . . . I believe you know her, as Beverly Katz." Solomon pressed his lips, as the mere mention of the name irritates his ears.

"It seems you question her identity. . . " Hannibal made a passing smirk before sitting across the boy. He duplicated the elegance of the boy's seat, but made a gracious effort to relax at the tension of the moment.

"Tssk-tssk, I'm disappointed doctor Lecter, I expected more from the famed 'Il Monstro' . . . Keeping too in touch with your blind side I see . . . " the boy uttered in a teasing manner, as his accent less tone flamboyantly showing.

The doctor remained silent. A single drop of a needle could be audible, with the consuming tension. He looked at the boy in the eyes, as if challenging him to continue. In which the boy complies.

"She worked for the CIA previously, an field agent to be exact. Code number 5-0-8-3.

She had arms and hand to hand combat training. Specialty, raiding missions. . . Has received the medal of honour in retiring approximately six years ago. . .

Pervious identities include, Diane Chen, Eliza Charles, Lin Mao and Tiffany Sung. . . " Solomon said, half interested, as if he had repeated this for a thousand times.

"And what is your interest in a retired CIA agent?" Hannibal frowned, uninterested in this pit of a situation.

As the doctor knows that it is not wise to meddle with the law, if you are fighting for the other side. As he reminisce the experience as he passed through the Italian boarder going to France.

Hannibal had to avoid the stops of inspection, by pressing himself against crates of products against himself, to camouflage his presence.

But alas a he was caught by, a young Italian policeman named Francesco Vargas. It was in a secluded ground, trees reaching high up to the sky and no sign of civilisation present. Hannibal's French contact was waiting at the other side of the boarder, preparing his swift escape.

Held at gun point, the doctor held his hand up as sweat dripped down his back. He looked tired and ready for surrender, the huffing and even feigning injury, as a splash of blood seemed to stain his previously white shirt dying it red.

"Policia! Policia!" The man shouted, screaming even.

The officer was cautious taking strategic steps towards the seemingly helpless man, as he pulled out a set of handcuffs and placed it around the doctor's wrists.

The officer then lifted the doctor up, as his arched back hunched covering his face. Hannibal couldn't keep his feet stead, as they stumbled because of the doctor's weight.

As they slowly reached the police car that waited by them, hannibal snapped his head hitting the officer square in the chin, knocking him down. Hannibal pressed his weight on the then laying officer.

Hannibal opened his mouth wide, as his bit the jugular of the squirming officer. Blood gushed out, as the body under him shook and struggled to take the pain and oxygen in.

The doctor then, reached of a rock, and hit the wound as hard as he could repeatedly. Until an audible hard snap was heard. Francesco was now dead.

Hannibal freed his hands, by breaking his right hand's fifth metacarpal, pushing his hamate to triquetral bone. Synonymous to folding his hand, to slip one of the cuff loops off. He endured the pain, as a scream was released from his lips.

He took the officer's uniform an snooped through his things, then assumed the deceased man's identity, until his escape.

Hannibal got back to reality when a stomp echoed through the room, coming from the boy's prosthetic limb.

"In one of her missions, she killed an . . . Valuable member of my organisation, so I want her out. Gone. Dead. . . " the boy mouthed irritation passing in his lips.

"And his so valuable enough to lose a few limbs . . . " the doctor said in a statement of matter-of-fact.

"A few sacrifices are needed to find salvation. . . " Solomon said in a frown.

"Interesting . . . " Hannibal muttered under his breath, inaudible to the others.

A smirk flashed upon the doctor's face. As an intimidating expression replaced it.

" Give me evidence and assurance of Will's safety" Hannibal uttered, giving the indiction of his cooperation.

Solomon pulled out a smartphone and dialled a cluster of numbers, he stayed silent, his lips parted as he sighed and spoke.

"Give it to him" a dominating tone took over the boy.

A muffled tone, until a low and dry moan came echoing from the phone.

"Will? Are you ok?" Distress hiding under his calm façade. Hannibal approached the phone closely, but it stayed at the boy's hand clutching it tightly.

"Mmmuhhh . . . GET ME OUT! Help he—" A muffled tone replaced a scream of fear and pain. And the phone cut, with the press of Solomon's finger.

"Proof enough?" Solomon raised a brow, a sarcastically smug remark painting a teasing satisfaction.

"Lacking for my tastes. . ." Hannibal muttered with an inaudible grunt coupling it.

"If you have the power and influence . . . Why associate with me ? I am merely a doctor." Hannibal queried, glaring at the boy.

"You down grade yourself too much doctor . . . You are a very popular topic in northern Europe . . . The uncatchable man, the monster of Italy and now the Chesapeak Ripper or do you prefer the 'cannibal of Baltimore'?" Solomon teased, playing the title in his mouth.

A malevolent laugh filled the room with enmity, it was from the now satisfied boy.

"You are a very hard man to find, doctor Lecter and that fascinates me. . . If I had the option of keeping you, I would. . . " Solomon said in a suggestive tone.

"But then again, as you said I am an uncatchable being. I enjoy the freedom and liberty that my . . . Admirer provides. " a sleek smile spread across the doctor's face.

" too bad, what a shame. But a free man shouldn't hold treasures, as if it the time to flee carrying something important would ultimately be your untimely down fall" Solomon uttered, indicating Hannibal's affection towards the missing agent.

"But treasures are to be kept and hidden " Hannibal answered in a smooth reply.

"Then put a leash on your dog next time." The boy said, before walking towards the door and bidding farewell.

"Finish your job within this month, and you'd see your boy alive. . . Unfortunately scratched though. " Solomon uttered before disappearing in the chilly midnight weather.


	25. Ch. 25 breaking his Will

Will's eyes opened half lid looking in a straight direction. He felt a groggy feeling, taking over his cloudy head. A familiar scent lingered near his nose.

He noticed that he was in a seat position, as he looked at the dim lit area. His current location was the only lit place in the whole area. 

He softly swung his head from side to side, looking at his surroundings intently. A feeling of utter danger rained down on him as he tried to raise his hand to rub his drowsy eyes. 

He lifted his right hand to no avail. A burning sensation that cuffed his delicate wrists. He shot his eyes open, wide as he started to struggle. 

"Help!" Will screamed to the top of his lungs. No response. But it echoed along a few times indicating the spaciousness of hi location. 

He was alone in this secluded area, it looked like an empty warehouse. Rusted metal bars crisscrossed around the dripping roof of the vicinity. But that was all he could see, as that was all the little light could allow. He couldn't see how wide the place was, or if the walls were close to his spot. 

He felt like he was . . . Nowhere, in a damp void. 

He looked down at his lap, and tried to move hi legs. But the same with his arms they were tied in a few knots of a thick rope. His restraint made his body ache and his legs fell asleep. 

Beads of sweat dripped down from his forehead, as in a distance he heard a faint chuckle and three pairs of foot steps coming near him. He struggle even more, as a presence neared him. 

The foot steps then stopped. As a sudden sound of metal clanked. Followed by a sound of a gun trigger being pulled. Bang. Was the only sound that Will could describe about the echoing loud noise. a flare of light flashed in a short distance. 

A deafening silence hung inside the warehouse. A crackle o laugh then followed as the voice approached closer to him. But now it was accompanied with only two pairs of foot steps and a ruffling sound of clothes being dragged. 

"Well good morning sunshine" a croaked voice said, throaty and dry. 

Two silhouettes entered his vision. Two men looked at him, the one on the left had a painted grin of mischievous origins. The other had a frown, and a very visible scar that went from his wrist to his upper arm, he had a bulky built, larger than the other. 

A cigarette was sitting between the teeth of the smaller man, his arms crossed on his chest. He fished a lighter from his left pant's pocket. It was gold, it had a lamb's head embossed on it. he flicked the mechanism to create a flame, and lit the resting cigarette. 

The other man held the collar of a shirt, as he dragged a bloody man in front of Will, and dropped it.

"Get me chair frank, my knees are killing me!" The thin man ordered as he revealed a New Yorker accent. It was the same croaky voice he heard a minute ago. 

The bulky man immediately ran back to the shadows and returned with a rusty metal chair that had stains of red all over. It was probably blood.

He placed the chair right in front of the groggy Will, observing him. He then seated himself, with his legs wide open and his elbow resting on his knee as he held his cigarette between two boney fingers. 

With his other hand, grabbed Will's face and turned it cheek to cheek. As his companion just stood guard. 

"Mmmuhh, pretty one this time . . . Frank this would be fun!" The boney one announced as he pressed his lit cigarette in Will's bare arm, making him wince at the pain of the burning sensation.

"Remember Mac, you can't kill him. The boss will kill us if you do. . . " the other said in a darkly baritone voice. 

"Mehh, that kid can't do anything without us! And be-sides, a little playing with the toy won't hurt!" The other said in a snare, then looked at will with a hint of enmity, like predator to his prey.

'Kid?' Will thought, as he tried to figure out the mastermind of this horrific event. 

"Lets see. . . Lets give him the deluxe treatment!" The thin said in a joyous manner. The only response of the other being a nod. 

Will's seat was pushed to the ground, making his head hit on the roughly cemented floor. A groan of pain was release from his lips. Will immediately struggled, as a cloth covered his mouth and nose. 

A sound of a water drum being dragged filled his ears, as the sound of bits of splashing water echoed through the area. He knew what came next. And the feeling of drowning in his dreams would come to a painful reality. He would be water boarded. 

The sound of a dipper scooping water, was all he could hear. As silence hung an the intensity of the tension was felt. His arms felt pain, as all his weight was supported by it, in his uncomfortable position being his hands were tied behind his back. 

A sudden chill of water pulled him out of his thoughts, and in to another type of misery. Water blocked his air, as the sensation of drowning tortured him. He couldn't breath and his body couldn't move or fight. He was alone.

The terrifying sensation repeated a few times. As they dunked his head in the drum of water, after his water boarding session. Soon the thin man got bored as Will refused to scream, as he knew it would be a waste of breath and energy considering their location. 

They then propped him up again like in his first position and looked at him with annoyed and grim eyes.

"Why don't ya scream like a bitch already?!" Mac said, slapping Will's right cheek hard enough that it cut it, and the cut drew blood. 

Will prepared himself for another as the man, lifted his fist for the strike. But stopped as he heard the ringtone of his seemingly outdated phone. He then stopped and fished it out. And Will was right, it was a gravely out dated phone.He then flipped it and put near his ear.

"What now?!" He muttered in annoyance. 

"Give it to him" The familiar voice dictated, as the man pressed the phone to Will's ear, as he muttered cusses under his breath. 

"Will? Are you ok?" Another familiar voice, but this time he knew who it was. It was the doctor. It was calm and slightly distressed, it soothed Will' sufferings till, a sharp pain was all he could feel. 

It was Mac, he cut a heart on Will's forearm flesh with a glinting knife. Blood flowed freely, to the pains of Will. 

"Mmmuhhh . . . GET ME OUT! Help he—" Was all that Will could plead before the ring beeps hit, meaning the end of the call. 

"Now-now lover boy, you shouldn't be to noisy now. Or else you won't see that dear doctor of yours alive" Mac said with a flick of his tongue.

'He knew the doctor?!' Was all that Will could think before blacking out. It was the end.


	26. Broken Will

Hannibal calm and collectedly dialed a series of numbers at his smart phone. The phone rang in constant ring, with only the patters of the rain outside, being the only other audible sound. 

it's been more than three weeks, and his time is almost up. All his plans, were failing and he is running out of options. For the first time in his life he felt . . . Scarred. And he didn't like it, it was proof that he is losing control of the situation. He never loses control. Never.

"Hello?" The other line said, monotonously. A familiarly sweet tone, tainted with stress and overwork. 

"Good evening Beverly, I would like to know, if you would have the pleasure join me tomorrow evening for dinner. . . I would like to discuss Will's missing case, if you dont mind. " Hannibal said, feigning innocence and worry in his voice. Trying to persuade the agent, to agree. 

Hannibal became desperate, desperate to get Will back. He last heard the man's voice was three weeks ago, and that triggered an unknown force of anger within him. Like a beast wanting to topple and ravish a town in the Grimm fairytales, his internal anger came to its peak. 

He saw everyone as meat, disposable cattle to slaughter after he is done or bored with them. Boredom before was his greatest enemy, he wanted the thrill of the kill. It always entertained him for his victims to squirm for breath, and struggle for their dear lives to no avail. He enjoyed their faces contorting to that of Picasso's paintings, a truly marvellous art of death. 

"Umm sure, is eight ok? I am pretty busy right now. . . But I'd give you my time tomorrow. " Beverly said, creating curve on hannibal's face. 

"Yes, that would be delightful . . . Thank you Beverly" Hannibal said in instinctual gratitude.

"I know you took the hardest hit when Will went missing . . . Now even Solomon is missing. . . I am so sorry. . . I cant tell you how sorry I am, I know its hard ." Beverly muttered in concern. 

Hannibal just scoffed at the name of Solomon. He has grown to hate it even more then before, as he believed their is no higher power then him. He hated Solomon's control, he felt like a puppet being controlled by silver strings. 

"Thank you" was all Hannibal could mutter, before bidding his goodbye to the woman on the other line. 

Soon Hannibal sat gracefully at his favourite brown reclining chair, his legs crossed, hands resting on top of his lap. He leaned his back to rest and shut his eyes. 

A knock on the door startled him. He opened the door to see, a woman drenched from the rain, shivering and looking at Hannibal with an obvious familiarity. 

"Mind letting me in?" The voice said casually but strained. 

Hannibal moved his towering body from the door frame. Then gestured for the woman to enter his abode.

The woman entered, as she stood near the lobby of the house. As Hannibal ventured in his home, leaving the woman to shiver at the cold. He then came back bringing a white towel and draped it over her shoulders. She gave a him a thankful nod. 

"Why are you here?" Hannibal said a bit too sternly. 

Her face dropped and her expression turned deadpan. She shifted the towel on hair, and dried it before answering.

"I have information about Will." She uttered, looking at hannibal with intent. No change in his expression, except suspicion. 

"Then why did you come to me, instead of Jack?" Hannibal Suggested, a frown forming a crease on his face.

"Because I know that you deserve to be the first one to know, and Will told me to tell you first" she said in a sullen expression. 

"I was contacted by Will, he's being held at an old warehouse . . . He said he's got two days left. . . I-I don't understand, he said to relay you the message. " Alana said struggling with her words . . . Two days. 

Hannibal lamented, two days that means he has only one shot left in killing Beverly. 

"You have to tell Jack of the situation" Hannibal said as calmly as possible. 

Alan nodded frantically as she fumbled her phone, a ring echoed through the house. As someone's drowsy voice responded. Alana once again relayed the message.

"On it, meet me at the lab" was all Jack responded to, as a groaning voice at the background muttered, about sleep. It was Bella persuading Jack to go back to bed, but as Jack said the word 'Will', Bella instantly muttered 'Go now', without hesitation. And then the call was cut. 

Hannibal got to his car and so did Alana, they convoyed through the rainy weather and sped through a few traffic lights. But it was all for Will, and they both wanted him back alive. They arrived first at the building, both being given their swipe card to pass security, they rested near Jack's office where a line of chairs were present for them to sit on. In which they obliged, but soon out of anticipation walked in and waited at the lab. 

Alana was still shivering from the cold but, having anxiety pump through her veins made her numb from the chilled feeling. 

All the lab rats soon one by one entered the lab, probably receiving a frantic call from Jack. 

Soon all were in attendance and a dreadful feeling filled the air, a heavy atmosphere and anxiety, silenced all. 

"Alana give your phone to Beverly, she's going to trace the call." Jack ordered, receiving a nod from Alana, before handing her phone to the only female agent currently present. 

"Jimmy, Brian look for all possible locations on where he's being held, the only clue we have is that the place is an abandon warehouse. So speed up your search now!" Jack added making the two scurry. 

Hannibal just stood-by looking calm yet distressed at the same time. 'Two days', his mind repeated and he knew he is running out of time. But he couldn't execute his plan, because of all the witnesses and the security system present in building, that would take his freedom from him. 

"Found it!" Beverly shouted joyously, as all gathered near her computer. 

"The call was received by cell-tower number 9763, by the south edge of the baltimore area. If you look for a warehouse there, then It's most likely around that location. I'll send you the coordinates now. " Beverly said, saving all the technicality to herself. Jimmy and Brian immediately typed on their individual computers. 

"Got it!" They said in unison, looking at each other like the other's discover was a hoax. 

"There are four abandoned warehouses in that specific area. . ." Brian started, before being cut off. 

"The storage warehouse at Galileo street, The furniture warehouse at 4th street . . . " Jimmy continued, before reversing back to Brian. 

"The wood warehouse by winchester county, and lastly the ship warehouse by the Layman port. " Brian said with a smug curve on his lips, having the last word means he's won on the undeclared competition he has with Jimmy. 

Jack fished his phone, and called for four dispatch teams to raid the said locations. 

Thats when, Hannibal's phone rang, he pulled it out of his jacket's pocket and looked at the caller ID. Roaming number. 

He then went out of the lab to pick up the call, because by instinct he knew it was Solomon.

"It's your fault he's going to die!" Solomon shouted with fury. 

"You called the police, now, now you can say goodbye to your chance to make him live!" With that a dead voice screamed. 

"No-no please! No don't do it" it was Will pleading for his life. 

And with that, a loud bang of a gun was heard. Then silence soon came over, before the call ended. Hannibal stood their frozen, he spent a few minutes trying to piece together the event. 

A voice from the distance called his name, it was Jack. With that he masked his mourning with an expression of worry. He knew now that Will was dead. 

Hannibal entered the room, everyone was silent, waiting for Jack's announcement. 

"I got a call from agent Bradley, the storage warehouse was clean" Jack said with a firm expression, little sighs of both relief and worry pass their lips. Except for Hannibal that knew of what happened to Will. 

"Agent Morgan and Benedict, has called too, the wood and furniture warehouses were clean. . . But at the ship warehouse, they found a pool of blood. . . Lab rats said, that who ever's blood this is most likely did live. They are now taking a sample for testing and Identification. 

The girls gasped, and Alana broke down thinking of the inevitable. Will is dead. Beverly just clenched her fists tightly, until her nails dug in her pale skin. 

Soon it was morning by ten, a tall short haired blonde woman walked in to the lab, and greeted everyone. She presented her ID as Gladys Bowman, the agent in charge of the identification of the blood found in the crime scene. 

"Why are you here Gladys?" Jack said clearly unhappy of her presence. 

"The higher ups wanted me personally to handle this case and the identification. . . William Graham is still in all technicality an agent, and that is because of your own stupid choice Jack. You brought this to him." She said, to the surprise of the others, as no one ever dared to speak rudely to Jack. 

"My agents could handle this on our own Gladys!" Jack said raising his voice a tad bit. 

"Like the way you handled this situation? You sent a civilian dressed as an agent to work on cases! God damn it Jack! He was outed for a reason, he was mentally unstable! Now, that he is technically an agent, it is in my jurisdiction now!" She said, shouting at an equal height as Jack. 

"Your jurisdiction?" Jimmy muttered. 

"Yes MY jurisdiction, I am the head of the agent retrieval and identification committee at the LA office, I am in-charge of accepting and dispatching agents, I am also liable with working on the identification of all FBI agents. I had to take a spontaneous flight to get here! Just because of the idiocy of your boss right here. " she said, explaining as she placed her handbag at the operating table. 

Looking at her, you'd notice she was not your ordinary lab rat, she was quite aged in the best way possible. A slim figure, glistening blue eyed and she dressed formally, a cream pencil skirt matching her blazer with little embroideries. A white blouse tucked in the hem of the skirt. 

She judged everyone present in the room, and noticed Hannibal's presence. 

"Who's this?" She said, eyeing Hannibal suspiciously. 

"This is Doctor Lecter, Will's psychiatrist and confidant" Jack introduced.

Hannibal put out a hand for her to reach. 

"Hannibal Lecter, pleasure to meet you" Hannibal said, putting out his charm. She accepted the hand shake, and gave a hint of a smile.

"Gladys Bowman, pleasure is all mine" she said, as she let of Hannibal's hand. 

"Id tell you all the results of the blood identification.So all of you leave now! I need space to work, and your sobbing and bitching about isn't helping!" She ordered, as she reverted back to her annoyed voice. 

Everyone left half heartedly. Jack argued more with Gladys after the others left, indicating they have a past with each other. 

It was already nine in the evening, when Gladys rounded up the agents and the doctor. 

"I am sorry to say this . . . But the blood has been confirmed to be William Graham's blood. And from the amount of the blood he lost, he couldn't have survived. William Graham is officially dead. " Gladys uttered. 

With that, a loud sob slipped from Alana's mouth, and silent tears dripped from the others eyes. While Hannibal silently watched on, already informed of the announcement before hand. 

Will is dead.


	27. Epilogue

"Can you believe it's been four years . . . " Alana said, as she handed Jack a glass of scotch. 

"Four years of being without him. . . it's about time we accepted it." Jack replayed. 

"A toast . . . To Will" Jack added, as all that was present in the room clanked their glasses with each other. As they all downed the drink, leaving a familiarly burning sensation in their throats. 

Today was a day to remember, as well as a day to dread. It was Will's death anniversary. Everybody that cared for Will was present in Alana's new office. 

Everyone's lives changed, but in it's own right mundane, after Will's passing. 

After the incident, Alana changed in the most unexpected of ways. She became cold, and climbed her way up to the top, as she now holds the position as the head administrator of the Baltimore state hospital for the criminally insane, replacing Chilton to his dismay. 

Chilton was charged with unethical practice of patients treatment, as well as being the primary suspect of the Jones crimes. The federal jury voted, and stripped his medical licence away. 

Brian and Merriam were dating now, and are planning to get married the next year. With Jimmy being the best man, making him more of a bridezilla then the bride herself. 

Beverly remained the same, alive and well. But now she drowned herself in more work then before, trying to make up for Will. As for her, if she had worked faster before Will would still be alive today. 

Jack took a hard hit in Will's passing, and a year after Bella succumbed to her cancer as well. Leaving Jack alone, and depressed. He is now undergoing trauma and emotional therapy with doctor Lecter.

Hannibal remained the same, as he already expected the ending being death. But he didn't expect it to be like this, he planned to be the one to be the carnivorous predator to kill his prey. He replaced Will in the FBI's investigation, giving insights about the case. And it seems that Gladys has taken a liking to the doctor, making him work on cases with her in LA. 

But every year, no matter how busy they were, they would always gather to commemorate their fallen comrade. To have a swig of drink then say a few words of enlightenment, before going back to their new lives. 

Suddenly, Jacks phone rang echoing in the closed four walled room. 

"Crowford" he said, as his voice croaked from the potency of the alcoholic. 

"Sir, there was a car crash. . . " the voice said, responding to Jack's stern one. 

"Agent Morgan, We dont investigate car crashes, unless it is of government issued or part of a murder. Leave it to the local district police to investigate." Jack said, a bit offended by the agent's knowledge of their bureau's jurisdiction. 

"So did someone get murdered? " Jack queried.

"No sir" Agent Morgan answered a bit warily.

"Was it ordered by the higher ups?" Jack asked again.

"No sir" the agent replied again. 

"Then it is not in our jurisdiction." Jack said in a matter of fact voice, frowning at the phone. 

"I know sir, but the the victim is a British national. And he said he was an ambassador for the British embassy here in Baltimore. He wants us to investigate. . . "Agent Morgan said, trying to persuade Jack. 

"Alright, bring him in" Jack said half heartedly, as he sighed.

"It seems that work is calling us back. Alana thanks for letting us visit." Jack said gesturing to the others.

"No problem, until we meet again. And Hannibal I am expecting an invite to your next dinner party." Alana said, making her fellow psychiatrist chuckle. 

"Of course, it would be an honor to have the pleasure of you accompanying me to dinner." Hannibal gave pleasant remark, before they all bid her goodbye.

As the group entered the FBI building a loud echoing of swears were heard. It was from a familiar voice, throwing hateful words to his receiver. 

"Bollocks! I dont have time for this! I am going to be late, can't you see I am a busy man? 

All I wanted was for you, to investigate the man who has left a large dent on my car! What is the point of bringing me here? I have a schedule to keep!" The accented voice shouted and complained, as he banged his fist on agent Morgan's table. 

"Sir calm down, we just have routine questions we have to ask." The agent said, a bit irritated of the man in front of him.

"Well make it bloody quick, I have a meeting in thirty minutes! I do not intend to be tardy at my first meeting here in America!" The accented voice said, as he sat on the chair crossing his legs before giving a loud sigh.

Jack saw the commotion and approached the table, with Hannibal following him, as the lab rats got back to work. but all he could see in his view was the man's back. 

He was quite fit and was wearing a well tailored plaid suit jacket with matching pants. His hair was cut short and on his left wrist rested a gold rolex. He was obviously quite a wealthy man. 

"What is going on here?" Jack asked, making agent Morgan stand up from his seat. 

"Sir, this is the man that I told you about earlier." The agent explained. 

"Are you the boss, here? Would you please, tell this chap off and just go investigate the one who bloody hit my car!" The seemingly familiar voice said, as he turned. 

Jacks eyes widened as he saw the man, and so did Hannibal's.

The man gave a confused look at the two, frowning at the process. An audible gasp was heard behind them, as Beverly saw the man. She held reports that she was going to pass at the receiving area, but saw Jack's dumbfounded expression from the distance, and took a peek at what he was looking at 

The reports slipped pass her hands as she tackled the man in a hug, as tears escaped her eyes, only muttering . . . 

"Will . . . " she said at the spitting imaged of the fallen agent. 

"What the bloody hell is happening?!" The man snapped, as he stood up from his seat. 

"Sir, please calm down . . . It's just a miss understanding on her part. . . You just look like our former colleague . . . " Jack explained, a bit dazed, as he pulled Beverly off of the man. While he put out a hand. 

"I forgot to introduce ourselves, I am Jack Crowford the head of the FBI Baltimore extension office, and this Doctor Hannibal Lecter, our resident profiler and psychiatrist." Jack introduced as the man shook Jack's hand. 

Hannibal also gestured for a shake, in which the Englishman obliged. But their gesture of introduction was lengthy and slow, like the man didn't want to let go. 

"Hugh Edmund Solomon, British ambassador pleasure to meet you"


	28. You again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to clear up what happened last chapter, enjoy :)

Alright some of you guys are confused about WTF happened last chapter, and why I am updating again. 

Well for 1 I am not yet done with my book, so you guys could enjoy reading it! Anyway this chapter is dedicated to clear out what happened. 

\----------------------------------------------  
Hugh was currently in the comforts of a brown reclining chair, while shifting some bourbon in a scotch glass. His legs crossed elegantly as his eyes wonder to the abyss while looking at the amber drink. 

"What do you think Mr. Solomon?" A balding man asked, as the other aged participants looked at him with expecting eyes. 

"Your plan . . . I don't like it. Change it ." Hugh said half-heartedly, audible gasps and murmurs filled the room. The balding man straightened his suit jacket and stood from his seat, banging his hands on the table. 

"And what is wrong with it? My team did our research perfectly! No holes in our blueprints! It is perfect! And your saying you don't like it?! Ludicrous I say!" The old man ranted and the others just stayed silent, as they were spectating the out burst of the old man. 

"Sit down Mr. Connor, I have heard you appeal and like I said, 'I - Dont -Like -It!' " Hugh said, utterly bored as he annunciates each word on emphasis. 

"And what gives you the authority to tell me what to do?! I have worked here for more than forty years, I am your senior that means I hold much more experience then your whole life time! So I know that this is the best way to achieve our target!" Mr. Conner said, bursting his fury.

Hugh just gave the elder a glare, and he faced him with a smug expression. He stood up from his seat and crossed his arms, looking dignified. 

"My say is the final say! I have the authority to hold the artefacts off and send them back to the British Isles, with a snap of my fingers. I was sent here to strengthen our country's relations with yours, through an art and history trade. I represent the whole of the English alliance and royalty, with my say I can end the deal here and now. . . And I am sure your . . . 'uncle Sam', wont appreciate losing this deal." Hugh said confidently, as a smirk paved its way. 

Mr. Connor muttered, curses under his breath which amused Hugh even more. He wanted the american to squirm and beg. 

"And dont lecture me about seniority, as age is just a number, and so is your years of labour. Because the last time I bloody checked, my position is higher then yours. . . You are an adviser, I am an Ambassador. And yes I do have the authority to shut you up, so sit the bloody hell down, now!" 

With his authoritarian tone, the aging adviser just sat down back in his seat. Judging eyes looked at the man with pity, because of defeat. 

"And what do you suggest? . . . SIR" Mr. Conner spat, at the word like poison. 

"Lets see, since you have spoilt my mood. . . I'm not going to say any suggestions, until I can hear a concrete plausible plan that, for one could get media attention and two, emphasize the bond of the two countries. All you, thirty participants shall give me your individual blueprints tomorrow. Do not disappoint me. " Hugh said in a calm manner, as he waved them out of the congress style meeting room. 

"English prick!" The elderly Conner muttered, making it audible to the ambassador. 

Hugh did not mind the hate he receives from his colleagues, as he knows no matter what he can't be touched. He is the best at making deals with foreign countries, to strike up deals that benefit both the underground and government alliances was his job. He was in the simplest sense irreplaceable. 

Hugh sat down in his leather recliner and looked through the glass window of the building. The greenery and seclusion of the location, tingled a familiarity in his mind. He hated it, for his former self was long dead but the memories that 'they' shared was already embedded in his mind. Why was he even sent back here to this . . . Isolated place. He downed the strong drink in one go, leaving his throat to burn at the feeling. But he liked it, he liked the pain because it always reminded him of the present, not the past. 

His phone rang, breaking his silent meditation. Doctor Hannibal Lecter, was on the caller ID. He frowned at the phone, thinking what could this man need from him. 

The two individuals exchange contacts after their first meeting. They have discovered, that they shared a few mutual contacts in the european union. 

"Solomon, how may I help you?" He said, trying to feign excitement in his voice, from the unexpected call. But out of all the people he met at the FBI office, Hannibal's voice was the one he dreaded the most. 

"Good afternoon, I hope I am not disturbing you of anything of importance. . . " Hannibal said, as etiquette was always first. 

"No-no, I was just having an afternoon drink. So what urges you to call me at such a time?" Hugh said, exuding his rudeness between his eloquent words. 

"Would you give me the pleasure of having dinner with you, tonight at eight ?" Hannibal uttered, as his flowery words seemed to get the ambassador's attention. 

"Is there a party? Or is it just me?" Hugh said, frowning even more. He hated to flaunt his face to the masses, his anonymous persona to the public has given him protection from his enemies. 

"I would prefer . . . A personal interaction with you, as I would like to discuss a seemingly pressing matter at my part. So I have arrange a private dinner, or do you prefer me to invite more guests?" Hannibal replied, he seemed to know what Hugh preferred. 

"That seems lovely, what establishment is the meeting place?" Hugh uttered, a smirk curving on his face. 

"I am a little bit of a culinary enthusiast, and would like you to participate in tasting a few of my recipes." Hannibal said in an elated tone. 

"Very well then, please send the address to your flat" Hugh replied, before cutting off the call. He didn't want to extend their conversation anymore then that. 

Hugh was never really an avid practitioner of etiquette and respect, as he dubs it as 'lowly' to fake your true intentions. This thought reminded him of a Moliere piece he was fond of reading. 

Time passed, and soon it was almost eight o'clock. He sighed at the sight of the short arm of his watch, he really preferred to stay at his new house and drink whiskey while reading 'Divina Comedia' : inferno. 

He found Dante's work, a comical reflection of his life. Being pulled down and guided by sinners to the depths of hell, truly an artistic interpretation of his own damnation.

He drove to the said location, with his dented car. And parked beside a beautiful black Chrysler. He went up the porch steps while admiring the structure before him, it was elegant and fluid while at the same time strikingly classic. He rang the door bell, before tucking his hands in his coat. 

"Good evening " the doctor greeted, while he opened the door to let his guest in. 

"As do you" Hugh replied monotonously. 

Hannibal asked for the ambassador's coat, before hanging it on a wooden rack. The doctor then led the his visitor to the lush dinning area, where a familiar set of china sat. Hugh frowned at the sight of the set, it was familiar and he hated it with a passion. 

The table's song bird design didn't change and was not not replaced, same for the intricately designed, silverware. the spoon and fork's handle that depicts embossed vines of ivies wrapping around the handle. And the knife's design of roses blossoming with little thorns perched in an array at the curving stem.

A familiar scent of spices assaulted his nose. A tingling at the back of his mind, triggered. He wanted to get out. Now.

"Please, feel comfortable" Hannibal uttered in a familiar manner. 

"No need, I do not intend to stay long. I accepted your offer, but I never expected you to present me this . . . " Hugh said, as he walked over to his coat. 

"What do you mean?" Hannibal said feigning ignorance, but Hugh could see through it. 

"Do not inculcate me to start again, what ever that was left to die in the past . . . Do not pretend not to know . . . I am neither your friend or your colleague." Hugh said calmly, taking the cashmere coat off the rack and wearing it. 

A hands entrap him, as they suddenly pushed him to the cream wall behind the ambassador. Each of the paychiatrist' hands cuffed the other's wrists. A sudden shock wore on Hugh's face, as Hannibal moved his face to Hugh's crook. He inhaled the scent before pulling back an letting go of his grip, making the smaller man fall to the floor. 

"I see your still wearing that same atrocious aftershave, Will . . . " Hannibal uttered, making the other shoot daggers at him.


	29. Neither I nor you

"Where did you hear that preposterous information from?!Tell me!" Hugh demanded, infuriated by the sudden discover of his . . . Previous persona. 

A hostile atmosphere swept throughout the home. A thick silence came, after such a scandalous statement. No one dared to say a word, they just blankly stared at each other, deciphering their thoughts. 

Hannibal walked to his desk, and grabbed a smooth red folder filled with a stack of papers. He then threw it at Hugh's direction, making the papers fly around the other's space. 

"I have compiled a dossier about your current identity . . . Even before you even arrived at Baltimore state. I must say I was surprised, I didn't expect you to come back so soon, I should have prepared better accommodations for you." Hannibal said nonchalantly. 

"Who told you?! I am asking you a god damn fucking question, and I fucking want an answer!" Hugh, uttered, as he slammed his fist on the hard wooden floor. 

"I had some assistance in finding you, I plainly asked a few people who . . . Had owed me a few favours to find you. It took three days to find your location, to be exact." Hannibal said, as he gestured a sinister hint at what those 'favours' are, indicating more dead bodies in unmarked graves. 

"Who is it? Who is your God forsaken client. . . " Hugh voiced in husky tone, anger consuming his core. 

"Lilith Andrews, I believe you know her as —" Hannibal added before being cut off. 

"Doctor Gregory Rothwell's assistant . . . So you've known these past four years, that I was alive." Hugh already had an answer, and frankly he didn't like it. 

"Yes. . . " Hannibal said flatly. 

Suddenly the psychiatrist crouched down to the other's level, Hannibal lifted his hand and traced every crease and fold of the ambassador's face. The bags present under the ambassador's eyes, the little folds of wrinkles above the apples of his cheeks, even the little mole that rested by Hugh's jawline. Until he reached the other's plush lips, he softly caressed his long finger over it. 

Immediately Hugh swatted the hand away, feeling the lingering heat on where the doctor touched. His chest tightened and his eyes dilated. A familiar fluttery feeling, was once again imposed upon him. But he forced his mind back to the presently bleak reality. 

"Do not treat me like Will Graham! Because we are not the same person . . . At least not anymore. " Hugh demanded, as he helped himself up. He patted off the nonexistent dust, that cursed this immaculate home. 

"And why is that?" Hannibal said, as he stood up to his full height as well. 

"I killed him four years ago! He died with that single gunshot! . . . Ive changed. . . I, no longer need you . . . I, no longer need your control." Hugh uttered, as a glare molded and imprinted upon the ambassador's expression. 

"Control? I never controlled you, Will. All that happened was of your own decision . . . I had no influence in any of it, but I am guilty of being with you, in your time of need." Hannibal raised a brow, before retaliating with such a preposterous concept. But what the other was saying was all true, he had always been the puppeteer masquerading as a victim. 

"Do not turn this on me! Ive known from the very start . . . But I was a fool to follow you . . . " Hugh hissed, his accent faded showing the natural state of his english. 

Hannibal became quite amused with such a correct analysis of his actions, true enough he was surprised that Will was conscious of his 'experimentation', tampering with Will's sanity. His toy was stronger and much more entertaining then what he ever assumed or expected. 

" if what your saying is a statement of fact, then why did you still . . . Comply to my manipulation. . . ?" Hannibal uttered, already knowing the answer. A smirk tugged on a side of the doctors lips. 

Will was infatuated. Simply put, Will had a deeper fondness for the doctor, and vice versa. It was responsive primal action of following the bright light, like a fly to a flame. 

"I blinded myself because of human trivial tendencies . . . Nothing more then just virile thoughts. . . Dont elevate your ego because of it. It has died with Will Graham. " Hugh, uttered neither pained or amused by the situation. 

Hannibal's hand snaked it's way to the other's waist, before pulling him close. They are now chest to chest, the doctor can hear the thumping of the increasing heartbeat berating his ears. 

"Let me go! You damn demon!" Hugh shouted vehemently, struggling from the other's grip. He didn't want this locked up feelings being drawn out by such simple action.

Hannibal, brushed his lips slightly teasing the other's fluster. Before he pulled away just a few centimetres to feed the tension even more. 

"Enough with this nonsense! This trivial 'feelings' of mine has been buried away with Will Graham. . . Do not bring the dead back to life for you silly games." Hugh ranted, peeling of the other. He was still internally unsettled by the mere centimetres of space that separated them. 

"Even if you kill 'him' in your mind, he is still a part of you. You are Will Graham and he is Hugh Edmund Solomon. . . You are one." The psychiatrist uttered, trying to mend their broken bond. 

Hannibal's grasp on the other's arm, as Hugh tried to escape. But like a fly stuck in a spiders web, he was trapped. A trap spindled to it's finest, making anyone admire it's wrenched beauty. 

A light chuckle seeped through Hugh's mouth. He finally had a moment of amusement in this unruly predicament of an hostile situation. 

"Such a hypocritical statement coming from you . . . Il Monstro." Hugh said, as he stopped struggling, he felt he had an upper hand knowing this secretive information. 

"You kept your professional and 'hobbyist' persona in different identities, forging an identity of a pure immaculate being. . . Or better yet disguising as a human. . . You aren't the only one who did their homework, these past four years." Hugh added, as a smirk crept on his face. 

"Very . . . Orthodox, coming from a dead man." Hannibal buzzed in excitement. 

"But you are wrong. . . 'We' are one, controlled by two. I believe that the Freudian way of explaining it is my Id, emulates you aforementioned statement. While Il Monstro is my Ego . . ." Hannibal added, before being cut off once again by Hugh. 

"And the killing intent that persuades you to execute lives, is the superego . . . " Hugh explained, flaunting his knowledge in Freudian theories. 

" and that is which I want you to partake in and understand. . . I would like you to join me in one of my . . . Rendezvous, to make you understand the thrill of the game." Hannibal uttered, a suggestive tone lowering upon his voice. 

Hugh's chuckle once again echoed through the house. 

"I have long been participating in the game . . . Doctor Stag" Hugh muttered confirming more . . . Dept in this new persona. 

Will Graham is finally ready to participate in the game.


	30. Syndicate

The former psychiatrist flicked the switch of the clear crystal chandelier in his home. He hung his worn out khaki cashmere coat on the rack beside the door way, it was a mundane day of his unemployment. 

His sullied reputation has given him an extremely hard time, to get a replacement for his former (salary abundant) profession. But because of his so called 'graceful exit', by thinking that relinquishing his position as the Head Administrator of the Baltimore state hospital for the Criminally insane, the jury and judge would let him keep his license. But alas the world is cruel. 

His former seven digit bank account now, after four years is in the brink of bankruptcy. His former lavish lifestyle is now, just a distant memory. His body guards have resigned their posts, and went their separate ways. 

After careful evaluation this former professional's bankruptcy is slightly due to his impractical spending habits. Buying antique Ivories, a few bottles of Macullen whiskey as well as Royal Crown brand of alcoholics and a few other expensive brands. His growing alcoholism leeching on his love for finery, that it took all the substance of the now pitiful three digit account. 

The creaking sound of his wooden floor boards alarms him, he cautiously crept to his foyer. Empty. He then went to the kitchen and pulled out a crooked butcher knife from the sheathe of a wooden knife holder. He went on a protective stance, as he infiltrated every room in the vicinity. Nothing. Everything is perfectly in place, he was drowning in paranoia or has his alcoholism got to him already?

His abode was a three story house, it was . . . A mix of modern architecture and antique furniture. It was quite a miss-match ensemble of flamboyant wealth. 

From the burgundy carpeted floors to the varnished wooden staircase. The beige and red painted walls, and large windows over looking his property. Everything was both out of place and in place. 

He then returned the butcher knife to its rightful place, as he sighed in relief. He silently reflected on the possibility, that he was as insane as his former patients while looking down at his polished white marble floor, that only his kitchen was blessed to have. 

He decided to rest up in his room, with a bottle of Macullen single malt whiskey in hand, he was set for the night. He popped the bottle open carelessly, leaving the cork to drop to the wooden floor. He took a long swig from the rim of the bottle, letting a few streams dribble drown his chin, before wiping it off with the back of his hand. 

The former psychiatrist passed by a mirror, that was set on the beige wall of his second level's corridor. He stopped and looked at himself, he, even in his eyes was a completely different man. Disheveled hair, a growing gruff, and dark circles under his eyes. He looked at his well-worn white Armani shirt, stained with drops of his alcoholic passions. The buttons were put in the wrong slits, and his dark blue slack seemingly unwashed for weeks. In the most simplest of words he was utterly a devastating sight. 

A familiar image came from behind him, which shook him to his core. The image's smirk grew as the figure approached the man closer, a chill made Chilton's spine shiver. 

"Miss me, Doctor? Oh wait, you aren't one anymore right? Sorry I keep on forgetting." The pitchy sarcasm evident in the figure's voice, adding salt to Chilton's open wound. 

"What do you want?" The former psychiatrist gave a calm reply, as if a stranger entering once's home was an everyday mundane occurrence. 

"Nothing really, I just love to see your depressing face. . . "The figure uttered, as his comical demeanor dropped. 

"And I just wanted to inform you 'he' is back . . . And he has orders." The boisterous man's voice dropped in to a low baritone, indicating his serious intention for the uncalled for visit. 

"Who?" The former doctor said with half hung lids, drowsy from the burning cradle of the whiskey. 

" The King . . . " with that simple title, uttered from the criminal's lips, Chilton sobered with a shiver. 

He has heard of this illustrious title for all the wrong reasons. Death followed throughout Europe, because of this . . . 'Syndicate' of the underground trade. From organ selling to assassinations, it is a well known reputable organization, rumored to have a 100% kill rate of their marks. 

And it seems the old boss was killed with a gun shot a few years prior, and the new one was rumored to be cannibalistic and ruthless. But that was all Chilton knew, as he has heard stories about it at a local bar that he frequented. 

"What does that got to do with me? I am a poor broke man as you know, what does an organized crime like that want with me?" Chilton uttered, as he reflected upon the information seeping through his mind. 

"No-no-no, you don't get it! This has everything to do with you . . . Dear doctor Chilton." The voice purred in a satisfying low. He cupped Chilton's face with his clammy burley hands, pulling closer to the criminal's face by mere inches. The former doctor's eyes widened, with such a brash action but he tried to remain as calm as possible. 

" to 'eradicate every evidence of his existence'. That includes all the people he has interacted with. And-that-includes-you" he said in a sing-song voice a frown painting his face, it was a disturbing stimuli of visual and audio paired together. 

"Why are you telling me this?! I imprisoned you, framed you for murder! Why help me?!" Chilton said, a little startled by the help. 

"Because you are my prey. . . I am the only one with the right to kill you!" The figure said, his forehead creasing from his from. 

" the syndicate in stronger, faster and much more ruthless with the new 'King' . . . Don't get caught, because we both know that, me killing you would be a much more merciful route then being 'his' prey." Abel Gideon uttered, as he gave a boost of a menacing atmosphere. 

"Tell me . . . What the syndicate really is ?!" Chilton said, his mask of a calm façade breaking at every word. 

"I can't say . . . Or else I'd be buried alive . . . But as a clue for my favorite doctor. The 'Red Dragon' is back and he has a new master."


	31. night at the museum

**\---------------------------------------------------**

Pacing about on a wide stage, the ambassador confidently presented his newest exhibit to a varied of class people, he calls his audience. Politicians, Critiques, Celebrities and Journalists flock to Baltimore after getting wind of the  charismatic ambassador.

It was a bore to speak and present to these unintelligible people, as he knows that they are joining the bandwagon of the publicity he has garnered.

". . . History has told us time and time again, that religion was the backbone of 'civilization', and why is that? Why is something so benign, cause wars, uprisings and revolution?" He started, an ascending introduction to the topic. His accent like a mix of oil and water, it was floating and emphasized in a smooth, suave manner.

Silence hung inside the large stadium. Obvious half-cocked attempts to simulate attentiveness was futile attempt, considering only a few truly were interested in the topic at hand.

"Because it sets a basic standard if morality. . . That dictates what is acceptable in the given society. Depending on what you believe in, creating chances to benefit and achieve glory and repentance. Installing false concepts as a dictation, to be able to answer the underlying questions of what is right and wrong. . . " a familiar voice echoed through the closed room, as the man walked closer to the stage. Revealing a familiar dapper, with a grey cashmere coat tucked under his right arm. Wearing an dark olive three piece suit, expensively marked by dark pinstripes.

All attention seemed to be grabbed by the distinct voice, as he seated himself at the empty reserved front seat. He gracefully crossed his legs, making himself comfortable at his seat. He gave Will a smug look, to which the other gave a look of utter irritation.

"And why do you say that?" Will challenged, utilizing a slight slang in his accent. He went down the stage, shining his loud and proud confidence and faced the other.

"Hypothetically, if we were to observe a room filled with starved people and the only food source was a single piece of meat in front of them. Their primal instincts, would instruct them to fight and maneuver their actions to accomplish the given task, which us to obtain the meat for their own nourishment. I say false concepts, as all in this room believe that it can be sorted in a civilized fashion. But alas that is just wishful thinking, proven time and time again in history. All concepts of right and wrong would always just be a matter of perspective." The man answered getting a lengthy expatiated explanation.

"You say 'them', are you excluding yourself from the requiem of this event, if it were to happen?" Will said, in more of a statement than a question,  as a smirk kept on drawing itself on his lips.

"Maybe,  I'll take the liberty to participate in cannibalistic acts." The man answered getting a roar of giggles from the listening crowd. The man has a smug smile already placed, inviting further questioning.

"I'll keep that in mind, doctor Lecter. . . Nice of you to join us." Will gave his best reenactment of a laugh, which in courage the others to jump on to the dark humor of their topic.

"The pleasure is all mine." Hannibal utter, his sarcasm was quite evident in the other's eyes. It was in it's own way a flirtatious gesture of attention, which seem to be a mix of intellectual bantering and dark sarcasm that only the two seemed to enjoy.

"Anyway, what I am drawing at here is that, the concepts of identity and beliefs have started wars and conflicts. History is an equilibrium of diction and politics, as well as philosophy and idealism. . . Envisioning a civil society, using means of intelligence and brutality. That is what I wish to share to you all. . . " Will uttered, gaining a percentage of fascination from the horde of myriad people in their most bespoken suits and dresses.

A slight murmur from the crowd strengthen the speaker's disposition. His discomfort subsiding slowly, as he once again paced the stage.

"Muslims, Christians, Protestants, Pagans and many more religions has caused the shed of blood as conflicts raised. Some of the most prominent wars were fought because of these religions. . . A concrete example would be the Crusades. In which Muslims and Christians alike, joined the fray for a piece of land." With that statement, the speaker garnered a series of unwanted snide comments. Considering his audience were predominantly rich white Christians.

"Religion also fueled the inquisition and the famous varied witch trials, that would take all day just to summarize it's sequence. . . " Will added to the outrage of others.

Will then cleared his throat, as he straightened his dark grey English cut Armani suit. He let out a loud sigh, as he loosened his tie and classic collar. He adjusted his French cuffs, before moving on to his main topic.

He was now used to the constricting wardrobe. He had attended so much social affairs, his well practiced mechanical smiles and fake pleasantries were the norm. But it always calmed him when he loosened his tie, to give him an easy access to breath. Interacting with prats was never the on the top of his list, but it was a need to extend connections that drove him to do this public exhibition. It was quite evident that most of the people in the one percent were lacking in intellectual prowess.  

"Anyway, time to go to the main topic. 'Torture devises of European history', it is . . . A pretty literal title. We have come here from the British isle, to showcase European history. . . " Will uttered favoring unadorned words, to make his non-scholarly audience understand. While he pressed the large red button on the projector's remote, to forward the slide, giving a preview of an instrument that was of rusted iron and similar to a modern brass knuckles, except for it's claw-like appendages. 

Will gestured to a tall man, as he wheeled in a tray on the actual instruments on stage.  Giving the man a curt nod, the other left the stage. Will wore elastic surgical gloves to handle the delicate instrument, as he lifted it up to the audience.

"This is called 'the Spanish tickler', but more commonly known as 'the cat's paw'. One of the lighter, hand held equipment. This gave the torturer mobility. As like it's modern descendant the brass knuckles it would be placed on the torturer's hand, letting the 'claws' out to tear the flesh of the victim once the torturer strikes. It was an efficient way to create multiple deep lacerations, that would be hard to heal and yet prolong the pain. As depending on the amount of strikes can make the victim survive through, and experience the excruciating pain it brought." Will simulated the strike action to the horde, as he wore the equipment on his knuckles.

"The next is my personal favorite, simply known as the 'pear' " Will laid his previous instrument down and retrieved, a silver leafed pear-shaped object. It was in a way beautiful, embellished in embossed Victorian patterns. It had an intricate design of lilies with it's buds in the brink of bloom.

Will opened it using the screw, as he carefully turned it. It spread it's four clamping sides, as like it's design the lily, it bloomed. As at the ample bottom of the pear, each had one spike. 

"Even with it's aesthetically appealing appearance, it still causes one of the most dreadful pains you can imagine. In some countries, it was called a 'choke pear', for good reason. It was put in any bodily opening to punish those who have sinned. Blasphemy? It would be placed in the mouth, turning the screw to a slow choke. Homosexuality? It would be put in the rectum, until the skin teared. Woman having an affair? It would be placed in the vagina." Will uttered, as his eyes gave a fascinating glint at the object he so lovingly demonstrated.

"It never truly caused a death, but excruciating pain. What usually killed the victim is either shock of the pain, bleeding out or infection from the wounds. " he said placing the item down.

He continued on, reiterating his slideshow with his verbal guidance. Some were at awe, some were disgusted and some were truly fascinated with the topic.

His presentation stretching across the European continent. Some of his memorable additions were the English 'scavenger's daughter', the Italian 'strappado'. Some touching the time of the middle ages such as Judas chair.

It was in summation a successful narration of the topic. And soon the after party commenced, it had a black tie cocktail theme. And of course Will did not bother to wear the proper dress code, as he found it very . . . Restricting. Curators from all over the states approached the ambassador, in conquest to borrow these contraptions for their charged museum.

"So Ambassador Solomon, I saw that you are well acquainted with the infamous Doctor Lecter. . . " Avery Deviér Maurier uttered, as she took a sip of her champagne. She is the present curator of a small museum in Denver, the tall woman wore a royal blue satin dress. She eyed the doctor from across the room, who obviously changed to fit the black tie requirement.

"Yes, well I am . . . Friends with him, if that is what you are implying. We met the first day I landed here in Baltimore, it is an anecdote for another day." Will said, as he flounced once again his careful accent.  

"He is quite the interesting man, vastly intelligent, well mannered and charmingly charismatic. Such a shame, his humble nature has barred him from furthering his influence in the scholarly community." She said, as three others that were in their communicative circle agreed with a nod.

Seeing as the crowd stared at him from across, Hannibal glided his steps and approached them. He took a sip of the champagne and immediately knew the brand from memory.

He stirred the flute glass, and took a sip again. As he stopped besides Will and miss Maurier.

"Napoleon, excellent choice Ambassador. " Hannibal opened, as the exquisite taste played in his mouth.

"1980's or 1990's?" Will asked, as a challenge. Shifting his own alcoholic at hand. Hannibal once again tasted the beverage, before placing the empty glass on a waiter's tray to retrieve another filled flute.

"Based purely on sweetness, the answer is most likely around the 1980's." Hannibal relied with ease.

"Bravo, doctor Lecter. You guessed it right, I applaud your fine tastes" Will uttered, which made the other upper class to clap in amusement.

"Excellent as always Hannibal!" Maurier exclaimed.

"Thank you Avery, I believe we haven't spoken in three years. It is nice to finally be able to talk to you again." Hannibal said, pressuring the pleasantries.

"Well our schedules have never been compatible, as we both know your busy with you patients." She said, as she hooked an arm with Hannibal's.

"Let me introduce you to the new additions to the art and history community. Professor Wilhelm Conner, Doctor Ashton Kelvire and Doctor Sophia Rodriguez, this is Doctor Hannibal Lecter." Hannibal shook their hands at their individual introduction.

After speaking for a while, Hannibal bid his goodbye. As he excused himself from the crowd of people.

"I must be going now, as it seems that I have an early appointment tomorrow." Hannibal said, as he slipped away from the crowd.

"Let me take you to your car, I insist my friend." Will said, fostering a kind smile.

"I would be most grateful for such a privilege" Hannibal responded, as a chuckle came from the group. Avery bid him a goodbye, before pecking both cheeks of the psychiatrist.

Will lead the way until the reached the isolated parking lot, where Hannibal's black Chrysler momentarily resided. Will's smile faded, as his faux pas interaction with the doctor surfaced.

"Why did you come?" Will uttered, removing his 'Hugh Solomon' persona.

"I just wanted to make sure my dear . . . 'Friend', knew the movements of the FBI's recent case." Hannibal said, emphasizing their recent relationship status.

"We just tested the device on some . . . Squealing pork. They won't find out what it is. The governmental system is slow, what does a little spice of excitement make a difference?" Will said, as he grinned at Hannibal.

"It will affect our hunting . . . As it seems we have an imitator on our hands. He has repeated our . .  . Nightly activities, imitating the same marks on the three victims that followed." Hannibal uttered in a whisper, careful in his words. Will started to frown at the given information, as there is now another contender in their game.

"And his initials seem to be R. D." Hannibal supplemented. As a frown curved the folds near Will's lips.

Hannibal supplemented. As a frown curved the folds near Will's lips.


	32. Red Dragon

Hannibal stood by a brick pillar, as the lab rats scrambled on their toes. The consecutive murders have been reeling in relentlessly these past two weeks, and as an added pressure Jack's unsettling glare seems to drive the lab rats even more to the edge. 

The body count of the seemingly serial crimes, have rose up to four just within the last two weeks. It was obviously to Jack's distaste, as he drowned himself in new sets of workloads. 

"Hannibal, I need your expertise in the matter. . . " Jack said, as he gestured to two corpse that were propped on two individual stainless steel operating table. Both the doctor and Jack had surgical masks on at this point, as the oddity of the bodies malodor was quite evident. 

The first body was badly decomposed, deflated muscles and leathered skin was all that was left besides the bones. Arms stiffly positioned in an obtuse angle. 

"Male caucasian, mid-thirties, perfect health, looks like he was bit of a fitness nut. From DNA, we ran him through the system, our friend here had a DUI when he was sixteen, his name is Thomas Lee. Occupation, a flower shop owner. Would you believe that? This hulk of a man . . . " Jimmy uttered briefing the psychiatrist, before glancing at the horribly decomposed body. 

"Correction, used to be a hulk of a man, is a flower shop owner! I mean really?!" Jimmy added, looking more offended at the victim's occupation then the murder itself. 

"Hulk?" Merriam said, with her arm hooked with Brian's, as they entered the room. Immediately the new agent scrunched her nose with the atrocious scent that she was eerily familiar with.

"Yes! His body mass states that his he was a fit man, presumably a bodybuilder type of guy, and that was confirmed with the decomposition. He died in a span of one to two weeks ago, so him being in this state is what I call a miracle! He still has a lot of body tissue considering where we found him." Jimmy said, giving a thumbs up. 

"Don't get sidetracked, we need new information now! We don't have time for this!" Jack demanded.

"Well I gotta lay it down it to you flatly Jack, there really isn't any new information to get. Even their toxicology is clean." Beverly said, as she approached the stainless table, her hand tucking her nose as the decomposing smell was unbearable, even to a trained specialist like Beverly. 

Beverly lived and slept with the corpses, seeing as she drown herself in relentless labour. But this new addition to the family, Thomas, was an odd specimen. The severity of it's decomposition has released the unappealing scent of the gastrointestinal acid, eating the meat away. She truly did not appreciate the dead man's presence in her other wise orderly work station. 

"And the other pretty specimen is a black, female, age presumably late forties. Larynx suggest singer as an occupation or teacher, as it seems to be the most used body part, besides the legs. About an estimated three days dead. No verifiable identity yet, dentals are still being checked. "Jimmy said as an serious introduction, as he heed Jack's warning. 

The other body had a lifelike appearance, in contrast to the other. Except for the grotesque scars that was carved on her face. Her stomach seems to be bloated, he long limbs still and slowly stiffening. 

Hannibal observed the two bodies, the differences were extremely evident. With the first body missing the initials, R.D., that the second possessed. But their doppelgänger similarities with their facial scars were an exposition of the torture they went through. Mouth cut and stretched, a bit flayed in four sections showing the victim's gums and teeth. The skin of the face was held in place, folding the excess skin into creases. 

A soft sound gurgled escaped the body. It seems by carelessness, the other's did not notice the sound, except for the well trained psychologist. He peeked at his golden rolex, before staring back at the second victim's bodily state. He estimates a twenty minute period, before his expected event happens. 

"We've been working on this for two weeks! Has anyone have any ideas what was the murder weapon?!" Jack queried sternly at the questionable circumstances of the deaths.

The lab rats took a moment and looked at each other. Presumably taking the agitation in the other's domineering voice. 

"Well Jack, we do have theories. But they are mostly unlikely. . . " Beverly started off, as a sudden quiet took over. Jack then gestured to continue her exposition.

"The most likely weapon is a torture device called a 'pear'. From the cuts. But that is highly unlikely not to mention that isn't what killed them. It just narrows the suspects down." Brian added, as Beverly's extension. 

"What do you mean?" Jack gave a grim expression. 

"Well you see, the 'pear' doesn't really kill, it is or was made to prolong the torture. And only two right now are available in town. . . Which are both, right now under Mr. Solomon's possession."

"Solomon? Hugh Solomon?" Jack uttered a bit unsure of what he heard. 

"Yes. . . "the three lab rats said in unison.

"but that isn't what killed the victims, it was trauma to the c1 to c3 vertebra that killed them." Beverly added. 

But still, Jack took note of investigating the ambassador. As he was now officially a suspect in the serial homicidal case. 

Hannibal on the other hand observed the bloating body, and eased his escape, with only a sparing amount of time left. Excusing himself to make a call, he eyed the bloated specimen as he did his deed. 

As he stepped out, he gave Jack a seemingly apologetic nod. He peeked at his watched, giving the room a ten minute absence. 

Hannibal pulled out his phone, dialing an already familiar set of numbers. He also took the liberty of freeing his facial features by taking off his surgical mask. The phone's tone lingered, before a familiar voice answered without formalities.

"What do you need?" The man on the other line uttered in an unamused tone. 

"I here to inform you that I would use your person as an alibi. It seems that the body of one of the . . . Victim's gastrointestinal gases were not fully relieved, and the body wou—" Hannibal uttered, before being cut off by the his conversational receiver. 

"Would blow up, yeah, I know the drill. I have encountered more than one incident, in one of the investigations. . . But next time please relinquish my involvement, in these occasions. And don't use our interactive confabulation to your own accord, I have more than a few problems on my plate as of present." The ambassador uttered, a little destain staining his voice, that was fluidly utilizing his persona's accent. 

"Then I am truly sorry for my disturbance. But I did not call only to inform you of that, but the present situation as well. But to . . . Help a friend." Hannibal uttered, emphasis clearly directing their present relationship, hinting the underlying extension of their connection. 

"Friend? Dear Doctor don't get me wrong, we are neither friends nor colleagues. . . " Will scoffed at the claim, as he shifted his brandy that was at hand. 

"Then what do you suggest we call our present familiarity?" Hannibal uttered in a slightly offended tone. 

"Liaisons, without the intercourse" Will uttered flatly, a tad bit amused with his identification. 

"I suppose that is in technicality, correct. . . You are now officially a suspect of the present homicide case. Please prepare a viable expedient alibi, for all your whereabouts in the span of the last two weeks. " Hannibal said, sternly. 

"You know I—" Will's voice was cut off from Hannibal's hearing. As his attention was caught by a booming sound. 

"It seems our conversation has to be cut short due to prior events. Goodbye ambassador." Hannibal uttered, before cutting the call without waiting for a response. He, himself knew it was in all sense rude, but he it pleases him to treat his favorite toy as so. 

Hannibal entered the vicinity, a strong putrid smell encased the area near the lab. His assumptions on the body were correct, it was in fact volatile. 

He approached the room, and opened the door, he observed the landscape. All three lab rats, Jack and Merriam were covered in bodily fluids and tissue. The white walls were stained in foul streaks of thick gastrointestinal fluids. 

Panic evident in their eyes. Beverly turned to them, only opening her mouth just a little to create muffled words. 

"Everybody for the love of God do not move! You are all now a part of evidence. Hannibal if you would kindly call forensic for a clean up, that would be wonderful." She demanded, understandable, even with he mostly enclosed slit of a mouth.

Hannibal did as told, but mused by his accuracy. He watched as a group of forensics, relieved the five of their currently rigid physical efforts. Excusing himself in the process, to leisure at his abode. 

He rode his beloved vehicle, driving to his property. He parked it at his favorite spot, as he looked at his left side-mirror. A familiar figure appeared to be standing on his doorstep.

"What brings you here, so late at night?" Hannibal queried. Looking quite pleased at his spontaneous visitor.

"I just had craving for you company tonight. I assume it is not a bother?" The figure responded as a grin marked the other's face. 

"Is that an open invitation?" Hannibal uttered, nearing his prey. 

"I suppose it is." The figure said, as a plastered smile spread through the guest's features.

Hannibal leaned forward, as the other pressed her lips on his. Combing his hair with her fingers in the heated interaction, muffled moans escaped from the other. As Hannibal bit her lower lip. The unique taste of lipstick lingered, a tinge of cherry palatable to the doctor. But the familiar tone of one of his classical favorites disturbed their moment.

"You better take that, it might be important. I am going to enter first." Alana said, as she grabbed a paper bag that seems to contain two bottles of wine. 

She proceeded in, taking off her purple scarf and velvet colored suit jacket, leaving a matching colored cocktail dress draped on her curvaceous form. Before corking the bottle and pouring a share if two, in the immaculate wine classes that Hannibal has maintained. 

Hannibal on the other hand viewed the caller as a roaming number, and decided to answer. He held the smartphone to his ear, as he spoke smooth words of salutations. 

"Good evening how may I help you?"Hannibal said, pleasantly courteous. 

But the doctor did receive a response, just heaving pants were audible from the other end. It took a few moments before the psychiatrist heard a verbal response, was raked. 

". . . I . . . I am like you. . . " his voice, had a twang and thick husk. The doctor remained silent, queuing the other to continue his expatiation. 

"We are one . . . We are monsters . . ." The voice added, a rough edge audible, in which Hannibal assumes as a verbal handicap, but the words itself pulled strings in his mind. 

"Who are you?" Hannibal finally spoke. He casually looked from side to side, as his instinct told him of an indecipherable character has appeared. 

"I am . . . Red Dragon." The voice said before cutting off. 

Hannibal immediately knew who this person was, but in the persona of his beloved work. He was a forger of his art.


	33. blood

"Pleased to meet your acquaintance." Hannibal said in a casual tone, seemingly nonchalant with the sudden introduction.

". . . You are the only one who understands doctor . . . " the other uttered, the speech muffled and rough. Panting filling the empty spaces of the conversation.

Hannibal remained silent, listening intently to the man on the other line.

". . . Am . . . I . . . Broken? . . . " the man uttered, still heaving.

"You are not broken. . . You have a purpose to serve, do it well and you will heal." Hannibal said, as his hand gripped the phone tighter. He knew, he knew he was being watched.

". . . What is . . . my purpose?. . . " the man queried further.

"To eliminate the unwanted. You are to satisfy yourself and bring an end to their folly." Hannibal uttered as he conjured a righteous tone.

". . . Who?" The voice asked, more of a mutter to himself than to the doctor.

" his name is Hugh Edmund Solomo—" the doctor halted. The panting breath seemed to have subsided with the mere mention of the name.

Hannibal reflected in the sudden silence, he was becoming too careless. It irritated him, he had to take control again.

"I. . . I can't." The voice said, before rambling to himself and hanging up.

Hannibal took it upon himself to entertain his 'guest'. Alana was already seated seductively on the embroidered plush seat, a glass of Zinfandel at hand. She took a sip before letting it rest on top of the glass centre piece table.

"You seem to be preoccupied." Alana uttered, a tinge of jealousy garnishing her words. She raised from her seat, and wrapped her arms around Hannibal's neck.

She sensually pressed her plump red lips on Hannibal's. It wasn't an unwanted invitation, but it wasn't what the doctor craved. Or better yet she wasn't his preferred partner.

Hannibal raised the hem of her dress up, exposing lacy set of black sheer undergarments. The doctor caressed his touch, probing the sensitive skin. The other quivered at the sensitivity of her own skin, squirming at the warmth.

But the moment was shattered. With a barrage of ricocheting bullets, Hannibal's immediate instinctual response was to duck, pulling Alana with him. The chandelier broke and fell to the ground, shards of the glass splintering everywhere. the wooden furniture’s absorbed the bullets and grazed the walls. The fine china on display knocked over, merging with the shattered glass that plagued the varnished floor boards. both doctors miraculously surviving with mere cuts and scratches from the glass, except for Hannibal's left arm being imbedded with a bullet.

"What was that?!" Alana screeched, as she immediately went over to Hannibal, who's sleeve was drenched in his own blood.

"I'm calling Jack." She continued, as she shakily dialed the number, not bothering to receive a response from the injured psychiatrist. Alana tapped her finger impatiently, Jack only picking up after three eerily long rings.

"Hello?" A groggy salutation Greeted her.

"We've been shot Jack, get paramedics now! Before Hannibal bleeds out." The head psychiatrist   uttered, worry dominating her features.

"Where are you?" Jack said try to calm the fidgeting woman down.

"Hannibal's." That was all the information that was needed.

"Ten minutes" Jack replied, before hanging up.

Hannibal on the other hand self medicated. Ripping a part of his blood drenched sleeve to a strip, before folding out his shirt to reveal the shot. It was quite deep in, it was in the same level of his heart, which seemed to be the primary target.

"Alana . . . Please do me a favor." Hannibal said panting mildly, his extensive tolerance to pain very evident.

"What is it?" She queried warily.

". . . There is a small. . . Paring knife at the kitchen. Please get it for me, with that bottle of scotch." Hannibal ordered, getting a brow raised as a response.

But the administrator did as told, procuring the needed items with extreme caution. She ducked down at open windows and, stepping away from the shattered glass. She got what she needed ad went back to her supposed 'fling's' aid.

Hannibal accepted it gratefully, before giving a straight chug of the burning liquor.  He let out a sigh and put the bottle aside. He held the paring knife tactful, it hinted an obvious practice of this procedure. Hannibal panted and grunted at the pain, as the sharp blade pierce through his skin, flaying it a bit for better access.

When the incision was large enough, Hannibal dug his fingers in the wound, attempting to gouge the bullet out. His thick fingers only moving the foreign item, creating more pain than needed.

"Here let me help." Alana uttered startled but gradually calming. her slender fingers prodded the opening, as her long nails moved like forceps. Pinching the bullet, she pulled it out with ease, making Hannibal grunt and shudder at the pain. He doused the wound in what was left of the scotch, to avoid infection. He then tied up the wound with the strip of cloth, he previously held.

Alana let the extracted bullet fall on the floor, the golden painted shell dripping the warm bodily fluid. The blood staining her fingers.

after a few minutes the songs of sirens loudly caught the two's attention. Hannibal stood up, slowly slumping cupping his wound, he walked to the front door, Alana in tow.

"You shouldn't move too much!" Alana scolded, getting no reply from the injured.

Hannibal's eyes wandered, looking at his foyer and oak front door. A small white card wedged against the door's latch, it was unscathed, in pristine condition. He automatically pulled and pocketed it, before his companion would notice.

They both bursted through the door, paramedics immediately surrounded them. Jack walked by them, examining their state with his own eyes.

"What happened?" He queries, as a stretch was pulled out for Hannibal's use.

". . . I think the situation is self explanatory." Hannibal uttered to the head agent, before being pulled in the waiting ambulance.

When they arrived at the Baltimore state hospital, IV drips were latched on the doctor's skin. He nicked the card, which had text written in bold red script.

'Let's see who will live longer . . .   
— S'

Hannibal felt a strong surge of irritation. He knew this style of communication, he knew who it was. That ghost of a child seems to be back . . . No.


	34. your king

Hannibal popped open a bottle Chianti, his favored wine amongst the classes. It's taste was more earthy and dry compared to other's giving it a unique Tuscany taste.

Sitting on a his sufficiently barraged leather seat, he shifted the wine in its glass. He was to say, 'unamused' with the pelting of his abode, as he waited for the perpetrator to appear.

He took a long sip until the doorbell rang, making him raise from his comfortable seat. He placed the glass on the half shattered table, pulling the edge of his suit jacket then opening the door to familiar face.

"Good evening." Was all the doctor could mutter, before letting the figure enter.

"What did you want?" The figure's voice said cutting to the chase.

"A mere confirmation." Hannibal uttered unmoved.

He lead them to the destroyed living room, and poured the stranger some Chianti. The figure sipped the wine, before seating himself opposite of Hannibal.

"Confirming what?" The other played coy, as he finally settled down the drink.

"How long have you been . . . 'King'?" Hannibal started off, making the other's eyes wide, as a wolfish grin crept on his lips.

"You knew?" The other said quite impressed.

"I suspected it from the start, the card confirmed my suspicions. I am actually unsurprised." Hannibal uttered, once again taking a sip of the drink.

The man bursted out laughing, from the start, he knew Hannibal would be the first to figure out the enigma that is the 'King'. The doctor's calculated nature should have alerted him already.

"Four years since the old one died, let's just say I found my place. I didn't expect killing the brat would give me his place automatically . . . But I enjoyed my time in the position per say." The figure uttered, his smugness exuberant.

"And your last name. . . Is a sign of your position I presume?" Hannibal asked, as he touched the edge of his seat.

"Yes, well I didn't prefer the name 'Solomon. . . It's like a mantle being passed down to every generation of 'King' " Will uttered, delighted.

"You killed our child. . . " Hannibal said in more of statement than a question. The child that hostaged his dear innocent Will, that shaped him to this.

"Yes. And I enjoyed every minute of him, squirming to breath. One shot and it was all over." Will muttered, no remorse visible in his deranged tone.

"You sent someone to kill me." Hannibal said in offence.

"Well you sent someone to kill me as well. So we are even. . . You know you're plan would have worked, if it wasn't my very own assassin you sent to kill me." Will said mimicking a childish grace.

"So next time you try to . . . 'Eliminate' me again. Our liaisons would be your death, doctor." Will said distantly.

Will moved and walked to Hannibal, only stopping in front of the man. Will leaned forward, pressing his hands on the chair's arm rest. His face mere millimeters from Hannibal's.

"I heard you had an affair with Alana. . . I  am a bit jealous . . . as you know I have always admired her." His words were crisp, to Hannibal's amusement. A grin plastering on the doctor's face.

"Is that so?" Hannibal uttered.

Will moved closer, his knee pressing on the doctor's leg. The ambassador's left hand grasp Hannibal's right, a solid metal object dropped from the doctor's fisted grip. Will inched to Hannibal's ear, muttering words in  a deep seated allure. Will pressed on the doctor's arm, the one with more than thirty stitches from the bullet he extracted. It still stung, but Hannibal presented the pain as nothing.

"Try that again, and I'd personally see to it that you die slowly." Will uttered, as he pulled back. He picked up the silver plated scalpel, that fell from Hannibal's hand. Will waved it around carelessly, enjoying the handle of the surgical blade.

Hannibal felt a smirk plaster more widely. The new Will is a worthy opponent playing for the other team in this murderous chess match. 


	35. ch. 34 death of Solomon

"Tell me, how do we pursue the pressing problem of my possible incarceration?" Will uttered, as he inspected the items that were shattered around the house.

The FBI haven't cleared the location completely, with all the shards and fragmented items still scattered hazardously presently intact. The dried drops of Hannibal's blood still staining the varnished floor.

"I am sure you have a plan at your disposal as we speak, I don't see a need to share insights on how I plan for the situation to progress." Hannibal waved off the pending question with ease.

Will smirked, fairly amused on how much the doctor has studied him. They were now in all senses equal. They both knew each other's weaknesses and strengths, for they have each other's mutual obsession.

"Too obvious?" Will said, sarcasm evident.

"But we have to work together my dear doctor, because as you know. . . If I fall, I'd drag you down with me." Will dropped to an extremely serious tone.

"As do I" Hannibal uttered, their relationship strained in deep seated threats of mutual nature hanging in the atmosphere.

"I hope you understand that the first person I plan to eliminate is either you or Jack. . . Jack is coming a little to close for comfort." Will faced the doctor, as he seated himself at the doctor's ruined coffee table.

Just an arm’s length from each other, either could twist the other's neck to finish the other off. But they both know there is no fun or class in that action. A true predator does not immediately kill it's prey, it prolongs the pain to as long as possible, slow, steady and calculated with perfect movement.

"I do not believe your intentions are to kill me . . . " in confidence Hannibal smirked, playing the flow.

"It's more likely that you are trying to seduce my approval with showing your intellect." Hannibal tilted his head to a degree to express his smugness. He knew and he was right.

Even after all these years, Will Graham still needed Hannibal Lecter. The patient needed the doctor, neither for emotional stability nor sexual desire, but a primal need for assurance.

Hannibal is a free ticket to safety even with all his power underground, Will knew to what extent Hannibal's power is, and it is to be feared.

"Seduce is such a . . . Naive word for our already established relationship." Will countered, whilst folding his black long sleeved shirt to his elbows.

"Relationship? I would doubt that definition of our current standing." Hannibal uttered, playing it off, making the other tsk. A rude gesture, that Hannibal is fighting to tolerate.

"But I have to ask . . . How long have you known that Solomon was 'King'?" Will uttered in remembrance of the young boy that he pitied that betrayed him.

_The young boy that didn't know how to hold a gun properly, as it pointed at Will. The shot heard from the phone previously. The shot only hitting Will in the forearm where the rope was knotted. The shot was imbedded in him, strangely similar to Hannibal's recent wound. The child cut the call, as Will started to groan in pain, before a sudden silence._

_The rope loosened giving access to untie his legs. Now mobile, Will sprinted to the teen's direction tackling him to the ground. The gun slipped from the child's hand, causing Will to grab it._

_Still stubbornly not wanting to hurt his closest thing to a family, Will ran. He got out of the rusting warehouse, he noticed the location was actually on a dock._

_A loud gunshot followed, it was Solomon, holding a .38 caliber. It was a one-on-one shoot out at the edge of the dock. Knowing full well of his limited ammunition, Will hid behind crates that were docked, pressing his back on the painted rusting metal._

_"Will I see you" the voice sang in a tune, no evidence of the previous stutter or accent._

_The boy crept on the edge. As he came closer to Will's coordinates, Will notice one frame of a clear shot. Even with the bullet wound, his FBI training served him well enough to be still for the single shot._

_Will slowly gripped the trigger, as he fixed his aim. Then that single frame came._

_'Now' Will murmured to himself, before pulling the trigger._

_A clean shot to the heart. The boy fell off the edge, falling off to the sea. It erased all the needed evidence of the crime._

It was a bluff that the child begged, Will never gave him a chance to. It was a 'one shot- one kill' situation.

" not long enough to have determined he was a threat to you or me." Hannibal uttered settling his hands on his lap, elegantly intertwined.

"You owe me. You’re the one who changed me, you let them torture me. Now you have to pay me what you owe." Will spat, eyes glazed with contempt. Hannibal blatantly ignored the piercing gaze, and though of a proper solution.

"Leave with me." It was a simple sentence, and fairly confusing.

"I have an estate in Florence that I have planned to visit, stay with me until all the suspicion dies down. " Hannibal eyed the other's reaction, who was weighing his options.

"Why Florence?" Will assessed suspiciously.

Hannibal grinned, teeth bared. Having been almost caught before by the Italian police, it truly was a suspicious choice of location.

"I want to show you a special place."

 

 


	36. Ch. 35 Abigail

"Monsieur, champagne?" The leggy flight attendant asked, as she pushed her trolley to the doctor's side.

" oui, un verre, s'il vous plaît" the doctor mused, before being handed a flute of the sparkling alcoholic.

"Oh you sir, have very good French." The blonde uttered, impressed with the doctor's pristine pronunciation. Her crisp natural accent, sending a displeasure to the psychologist's companion.

"Merci" the doctor said politely, before the attendant gestured to Will, who showed her no mind.

"Solomon?" Hannibal raised a brow in question, leaving a few seconds of time to think as the ambassador shook his head indicating a 'no'.

The blonde moved the trolley forward, but stopped to give Hannibal one last glance before continuing on.

"Is this what you were doing in my four year absence? Charming the pants off of the people you just met?" Will muttered, his voice laced with malice. The creases of his forehead being more prominent with the knitting of his brows, his faux accent in tow.

"I believe I did that even before your . . . Personal leave." Hannibal uttered in humor, diligently savoring the taste of the champagne. The taste of an almost perfect balance of bold, earthy and sweet.

Will terribly unamused by the implications, especially as the couple adjacent to them gave knowing looks. Even after all these years, the thought of people paying significant attention to the reformed Will still got under his skin. 

"So why are we going to Paris? I thought you said we were going to Florence?" Will questioned, feeling an eerie intuition. Hannibal tilted his head, putting of a smug smirk.

"I have to arrange a few things, before assuming your permanent escape from your former colleagues." Hannibal responded, before finishing his drink and setting it down.

"As for now, rest properly." Hannibal added, simply resting his eyes closed as he leaned back in his first class seat. Back still a paragon of proper posture and not a single wrinkle on his three piece suit.

Will eyed the doctor carefully, memorizing every crease that folded his seemingly serene features. From the thin curve of his lips to the position of the doctor's cheekbones, it was all for the ambassador's viewing pleasure. Will lamented on the fact that not a single wrinkle was added, whilst he was gone in his years of 'death'.

Will then drifted off to his own rest, replicating Hannibal’s position. Unbeknownst to him, the doctor was actually in a lucid state. Hannibal knew the prying eyes that are examining him under the careful light of the airplane window. It is far more tactical to pretend you’re vulnerability to a fellow player, to draw an instinct of their own vulnerability.  
As they landed, Will was jolted to wake, feeling the turbulence. After they safely exited the airport with no glitches to be heard of.

They took a taxi to 'Prima Facia', a first class apartment building by the out skirts of the Eiffel Tower, having a marvelous view, elegance was the central point of its exterior. Evenly painted with pillars at the front steps with Italian marble lining it in equal intricacy. it was in itself a work of architectural art.

Hannibal unlocked the front door, to reveal an equally elegant interior. A large cast iron and crystal chandelier, adjacent to the mosaic marble foyer. Plush seats with a carved wooden form, and an executive style dining table visible at the next room. Walls were lined with illustrious paintings if what seems to be original Van Gogh, Pollock and Dali, but some seemed to be personal sketches of a charcoal pencil. 

Each framed sketch was dynamic, macabre, loathsome and yet mind bogglingly breath taking. Mangled, stabbed and tortured, was an obvious concept as well as death.  
The apartment was a substance of pure extravagance exuberating around them. Hannibal placed his luggage down, before calling out.

"Bedelia!" Hannibal uttered, making a blonde woman reveal herself. She was an accessory to the vicinity, as she was equally elegant and beautiful.

She wore a tight fitting cream pencil skirt accentuating her curves, a white loose silk top tucked in. Her hair in curls bounced, as she walked down the crescent staircase, her hand gliding against the stairs pillars. Her glistening high heels tapped at each step, adding to the dramatics of the entrance.

"Your back." She said significantly dull.

"Where is she?" Hannibal asked, as the woman headed to the nearby bar, and poured three glasses of red wine.

"She's upstairs resting. She just got home from her lessons." She answered dryly, while handing the two men a glass of what Hannibal presumes is his Don Gregorio, Grenache.

"We are taking her, tell her to prepare." Hannibal demanded, as the woman frowned. She crossed her arms, leaning her stance to her right leg.

"You hauled me up here to take care of your daughter for five years, Hannibal. Five years! This has been your first time to visit her in that time! Do you expect her to come with you willingly?!" Bedelia argued, luster of aggression lacing her words carefully.

The fact of Hannibal having a daughter, dawned on the former FBI profiler. His eyes widened, plainly staring at the doctor, who glared in response to the woman's factual statement.

"Bedelia. . . Please call Abigail, and prepare." Hannibal ordered again, kindly this time but a low growl slipped from his lips.

Seeing the murderous intent seeping through the glare, the woman proceeded to go up the stairs to call the so called 'daughter' of the psychiatrist, without anymore objections. Leaving the two guests alone.

"You have a daughter?" Will mustered, tilting his head in curiosity.

"Yes . . . I was planning on introducing you both in due time, but your 'death' was an obvious expostulate in our circumstance." Hannibal answered, as he lowly lead them both to the dining area to sit.

Will contemplated in silence, as he imaginatively peeled Hannibal's existence layer by layer. The ambassador constructed a very viable exposition that addendum the given facts.  
Simply put, Bedelia being Hannibal's past lover or wife. The child was given support by the obviously wealthy father, in exchange for the mother's care in his very evident absence.

Will concocted multiple variations of what type of child would Hannibal spawn, one being a spoiled elitist, the other being as cannibalistic as her father and one being as complicated and psychologically challenging. Even if most were not hereditary traits, Will still wondered what type of monster would he meet. Two pairs of footsteps caught the men's attention. They both turned to face a teenage girl besides Bedelia.

She had an innocent face, shy smile and fair skin. Brown locks cascading her ever petite shoulders, as a green sheer scarf wrapped around her neck, youthfully draping on each side of her form.

"Dad! " she cried out, as she ran to Hannibal's side. Joyously wrapping her arms around the seated man's neck.

"Manners Abigail." Hannibal cooed, affection tender in his voice.  
She let go of the doctor, as she set her gaze on the new addition to the room. She gave a kind smile, as she introduced herself.

"Abigail Lecter, pleased to meet you." She said, courteous in tone. 

“Will Graham” Will answered, making the youth smile. But the name made Bedelia’s head snap to attention. A simple smile creeping on her lips.  
It was obvious that she knew something that he didn’t which irritated him. 

“well now that is the most interesting information I’ve heard.” Bedelia muttered, catching the others attention. she gave a sinister look, calling for an impending doom.

“and I believe it is almost dinner, please Hannibal help yourself in the kitchen” Bedelia slyly order, making the conversation a two way strike.   
Hannibal made no protests and headed to the kitchen that was connected to the foyer, Abigail volunteered in helping her father and headed to the kitchen as well. Leaving the two adults in each other’s company.

“I am obviously not Abigail’s mother, if that’s what you’re thinking. Nor am I Hannibal’s lover.” Bedelia uttered, before sipping her wine, then giving it a careful twirl. 

“I didn’t ask.” Will said plainly, guilty of his accusations.

“it was quite evident in your expression. Curiosity. Irritation. And a very obvious jealousy.” She gave a mocking tune to every syllable of the last sentence.   
Will gave a low chuckle and shook his head. He turned to Bedelia, with confidence.

“I don’t have anything to be jealous off. I detest Hannibal’s presence.” Will muttered. Feeling something familiar in the woman’s tone.

“you can’t lie to me Will, I am . . . or was one of the best psychologists.” Bedelia informed, getting the other agitated with that single statement.

“ maybe not the best, as I have never heard of you before” Will insulted, as a repercussion of her implication.

“because I work under my last name, my name is Bedelia Du Maurier. I believe you handled my case.” She sassed, a smug smirk painting her red lips.

She was right, Will knew who this woman was, especially after hearing her last name. now he remembered. Will worked on her case seven years ago, as she was a missing person. She was attacked by a patient a week before her disappearance, which resulted in her to act in self defense eventually killing her patient. But it took a month before an official missing persons report was submitted to the FBI, by the local police. She was handling some high profile people, and it seemed like the woman was in danger. After two years of the investigation, the case became cold. And Bedelia Du Maurier was officially dead. 

“why are you here? You’ve been missing for seven years now. ” Will asked, suspicious of the obviously intelligent woman in front of him.

“I asked Hannibal to take me, he brought me here to get me to . . . unwind about the problems the US has given me.” Bedelia alleges, feeling the eyes of the other.

“we didn’t have contact for two years, then he suddenly called to ask me a favor. He wanted me to look after a teen child that he picked up out of the gutter. And yet, after saying this, we both know that Hannibal won’t do something without a significant goal. I found it suspicious to say the least.” The woman laughed, finding her situation comical.

“yes it is.” Will said flatly, charity was never Hannibal’s motive in anything.

Time passed between the two, finding that their commonality being Hannibal’s . . . captives. They both exchange words of indifference understanding their unique circumstances. Until the unwitty decision of divulging in the conversation of emotions came.

“Hannibal seems to be allured by your intelligence Mr. Graham” Bedelia started, as she peeled Will’s guard down.

“and so are you.” She added, enjoying Will’s barrage of emotions flowing out of his face.

“I don’t see any evidence or significance of this fact.” Will argued, feeling the tension. 

“and yet, I see all the significance of this fact very clearly. He is obsessed, with both perfection and you.” She commented, knowingly emphasizing the word ‘obsession’ with a careful pause.

“obsessed? Frankly he doesn’t care for me or my being, he has and ever since destroyed me.” Will bellowed, as he gripped the cloth of his trousers.

“no, he destroyed you to have you. And I believe you already know that, he elevates obsession to love. He sees his options long before it is needed, he saw a need to create your dependence on him. And yet, you surprise us all with escaping Hannibal’s plan for you, and you creating your own person. Extremely fascinating.” Bedelia said staining amusement on her voice.

“and now seeing you I believe you yourself are aware of your own obsession with him. truly fascinating, a sociopath and a psychopath obsessing over each other. No, a psychopath and a psychopath obsessing over each other to be more precise.” She teased.

“I am not a psychopath.” Will’s voice hardening in the response. 

“good education, good career, highly manipulative and I believe you were subjected to childhood trauma, that your lineage seems to have this trait of heritable social dysfunction. The only thing that puts you on the partial scale is your spontaneous out bursts, that falls under sociopath.”Bedelia explained her assessment.

“and clearly you enjoy being in the middle of that spectrum.” The doctor ended, as she heard two footsteps coming near them, indicating the end of the conversation.


	37. Beurre noir ou noisette

"Dad, who is that man?" A curious Abigail queried, as she tied a white apron around her slim waist.

"Since when has my affiliations mattered to you?" Hannibal played, he enjoyed his daughter's curiosity. As he too wore his apron, choosing black contrasting  Abigail's.

She was a simple corrupted delight. A façade of pure innocents but a shadow of painted terror. Hannibal enjoyed her company more than others, which says a lot about their commonality.

"Since you brought that man home. You don't bring home anyone, except for food." The teen uttered smartly, amusing the doctor even more.

"He is my most persistent . . . Curiosity." Hannibal admitted, placing a hand on her shoulder.

Hannibal then pulled out a whole brain from the freezer, placing it on a chopping board. He gave Abigail a look as he examine the ingredient, looking for specks of imperfections.

"Long pork? I see you've practiced the skills I've gave you." Hannibal uttered, proud in tune of his words.

"Well you did say five years ago that the day you come back, I have to prepare the best meat I could get. So there." She said casually, while pointing at the slab of brain.

"I am to say pleased." Hannibal commented, as his cleaver struck the brain to chop. Mincing it with such precision, every piece is equal to the other.

"And does Bedelia know of our contact or your culinary taste in . . . Pork?" Hannibal addendum, looking warily at the girl.

"No, she believes we haven't spoken in five years. Well except on my birthdays. And of course I made sure she didn't suspect a thing about the food, or better yet meat." Abigail managed, pressured by her father's gaze.

"Very well, I believe now is the appropriate time to apply your skill. I have taught you more than enough in the art of the hunt, now I would see you exercise the art of manipulation. I find it all pleasing, but my dear I still want to proved you with a proper family . . . But you have to work for it on your own. " Hannibal mused, his art of suggestion made Abigail nod immediately.

"What do you want me to do?" Abigail whispered, a grin spread on her face. Hannibal handed the girl a clip point knife,  gesturing to chop the bundle of parsley that was on top of the counter.

She complied whole heartedly, making the effort of symmetry in cutting. Which she unfortunately lacks. 

"A you know Will Graham is my consistent curiosity. He is different, intelligent. Emotions being his only weakness. I want to cultivate control over him, I would like to request your compliance in his manipulation." Hannibal uttered, low in a possessive growl.

"So he will be part our family?" Abigail asked innocently, but she already knew the answer. Yes.

It was simple. A family, was all Abigail wanted, Hannibal was determined to give it to his only daughter. Abigail was more than happy to help Hannibal, as he was never truly interested in anyone.

Hannibal only took on psychiatric career due to his sheer interest in control and power, he had no care for the well being of his patience. He was a bored man, who killed and ate for the thrill. So to openly say that he is interested in a person was baffling.

"Get the unsalted butter, and preheat the pan." Hannibal ordered instead, as he evenly seasoned the cervelles.

 

***

“we are having Beurre noir ou noisette, sweet cured roast thigh and Japanese style mochi with red bean paste.” Abigail happily announced, as she stood decides the grand dining table.

The four took their proper seats, Abigail in between Will and Hannibal, who was next to Bedelia. Hannibal served the entrée, which raised a few brows. Will found it particularly unappetizing, no matter how pleasing it’s appearance is. It was an odd instinct, as he glanced at Abigail who enthusiastically gobbled it down.

Will wondered if the young lady is aware of her foster father’s proclivities with human meat, but the probability is low. Considering, Abigail was the polar opposite of what Will expected, she was kind, courteous and . . . Normal. That was a description he did not expect to label on the teen.

Although as expected she was more than a little well educated, Will could even say almost in par with Hannibal himself. But for a fact she was clumsy at etiquette, struggling with the many silverware that was set up on the table.

"We don't usually use this many spoons and forks. The last time I did was more than five years ago."  Abigail explained shyly whispering to Will, while Bedelia and Hannibal conversed with what seems to be psychology.

"No it's fine, I’m not the fine dining type too." Will replied nodding, only to be replied with a kind smile.

That was when the main course was served. Hannibal looked a bit worried, a foreign emotion on Hannibal’s face. Will hasn’t touched his entrée, and merely played with the cubed bits. But the psychiatrist didn’t say anything.

"They look cozy" Abigail pointed at the two conversing doctors.

  
"Yeah, they are." Will responded flatly, hiding the tightness of his jaw.

Will picked up the middle fork, and stab the main course on his plate. The action relived the instinctive jerk of his arm. He didn't understand this feeling of both loss and aggression.

Abigail pitied the swine that took Will's anger. The crack on its burnt skin, tearing it open.

"Are you ok, Will?" Hannibal uttered, worried. While a smirk marked Bedelia's face.

"Ecstatic." Will said flatly.

Hannibal stood from his seat. A surprisingly compulsive action, that Bedelia raised a brow, as it was considered rude. 

Hannibal kneeled in front of Will, taking a look at his eye movement and checking his temperature as well.

“if you have no appetite, I think it’s better that you take your rest Will.” Hannibal suggested, as he lead Will to a guest room.

Hannibal came back to the dining area, to an amused pair of ladies. He settled himself back on his seat, and continued his meal not minding the odd stares of the two.

“Hannibal, I believe you are turning human.” Bedelia humored, a smooth snicker slipped her lips.

“I don’t understand what your implying.” Hannibal retorted, feigning ignorance.

“you know very well what I am implying, the beast is being tamed by a broken mortal. Very poetic.” Bedelia uttered, before cutting her roast.

“I am not a beast Bedelia, I am a hunter. I do not bow for anybody, certainly not a broken man.” Hannibal uttered, a frown painting his lips.

“you don’t bow for any God or any being, and yet today I saw a miracle. You were never a hunter Hannibal, you are a wild calculated beast. You were never a human to begin with, you are an empty spirit that wears a very convincing meat suit.” Bedelia mused. Hannibal stabbed the pork thigh with the carving knife, silencing the woman.

Abigail flinched at the action, surprised by the outburst. On the other hand, Bedelia wore a bored expression. She was not scared of Hannibal, because she knew the worth of her aid better than anybody.

“and yet you saw right through it.” Hannibal uttered, mimicking calm in his voice.

“better yet, you let me see. I only see the things you want me to see, but your Will Graham sees everything. He sees you.” Bedelia uttered annunciating every word of the last sentence with a mocking tune.

“and I see him.” Hannibal ended, before Abigail shifted the conversation feeling the tension.


	38. Palazzo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning partial smex. If you guys want a full version chat me up or comment! I just might write one.  
> Ps. Enjoy XD

Will's nails dug deep on Hannibal's skin, the scratches becoming gradually lubricated by a dark red pigment. Moans echoed through the room, Will slowly found himself realizing the situation. Will's back was pressed against the Italian quilt, his bare skin feeling the silky texture.

 

"Ha-Hannibal sl—" Will tried to utter as the psychiatrist picked up his speed, pounding the younger man to a speechless puddle.

 

The heated touches of their skin agonizingly electric, it was nothing Will has ever experienced. Beads of sweat trickling down their bodies, as they felt their pulse raise in arousal. The pads of each other's fingers feeling the heat, as it roamed around each other's skin, touch as much a they can. The deed was well paced, calculated considering Hannibal was the one leading.

 

Will's mind was blank, his words being incoherent. A trail of ownership marked his skin, from the neck down to the ambassador's thigh. Hannibal was over him whispering encouraging words to him, keeping the pain of the speedy intrusion at bay. Will slowly begun to be accustomed to constant pace, making him enjoy the movement.

 

Hannibal swept Will's curly hair back, the dampness being his first thought before drowning himself in the others needy moans. The doctor enjoyed Will like this, a submissive counter to his usual intelligence shielded veneer. He enjoyed the control, the neediness, the pleasure he gives to Will. He also enjoyed the notion of devouring him, both mentally and physically.

 

The thought started a rush of arousal in Hannibal, in turn making Will take it all. But he was reaching his limit, and imposed his seed in the other. Hannibal bit down on The edge of Will's neck, a well acquainted taste of iron tickled his tongue. Will released soon after, but couldn't take ecstasy and fainted of exhaustion.

 

The profiler's grip on the other's skin loosened, making it fall to his sides. The blood from Will's grip smeared downwards, following Will's loose hands. The doctor lifted himself up, to bask in the sight. Will bare in his bed, whilst the light of dawn colored his skin in tints of yellow, orange and hints if red. The sun slowly rising to expose it's most prominent color.

 

Hannibal felt the sting of air kiss his wounds, but paid it no mind as took this opportunity to take his sketchpad and charcoal pencil from his luggage, he angled his position to get the best of Will's features.

 

It was the perfect picture in the doctor's mind. His muse, elegantly positioned, draped in a red silk reminiscent of blood. The bed he was on was symmetrically place in between the Palazzo's balcony, which was similarly decorated with long red silk curtains held together by a golden rope and an antique cabinet. A painting was above the bed of a botanical beauty, greenery and bloom scattering the framed scene.

 

Hannibal took his time perfecting the rough sketch, drawing out the most prominent folds of silk and how the light contrasts with shades of the shadow it casts. His every stroke immortalizing the scene.

 

***

 

Will woke up feeling worn, all his ligaments disjointed from over excursion. The smell of the air was . . . Different. It wasn't the noisy smoke of Boston nor was is the cool isolation of Baltimore. It was . . . New. The air was warm, the smell of spices filled the air.

 

A soft breeze kissed Will's bare shoulders, making his eyes shot open. He viewed his surroundings, the space was familiar yet foreign. He took it upon himself to try to stand, but a sharp pain prevented him to. The profiler reached for a maroon robe, that was hung on a plush red upholstered wooden seat. He covered himself, still in a sullen daze.

 

He turned at the sound of the creak of the door, to stare at a fairly neutral looking Hannibal. His sleeves folded in 3/4ths, an apron draping his front.

 

"Good your awake, Abigail is waiting at the dining table. Help yourself to the served food after you've cleaned up." Hannibal uttered, unsurprised by the scene.

 

"How did I—why am I even here?!" Will said in a twisted fury, as gentle touched the stinging area between his neck and collar bone.

 

"You . . . You’re the one that presented yourself to me, I just took up the offer." Hannibal said nonchalantly, as he crept closer to Will.

 

"You said to eat you. And I did." Hannibal whispered, making Will's spine feel a sudden shiver.

 

"I was ready to die! This was supposed to be the end of our 'companionship'. We landed in Italy, that was our deal! I won't bring you down with me if you help me escape!" Will felt it, this untapped feeling. Indescribable. Torn and yet not. The profiler ran his hand across his face, as he recounted the events of the evening.

 

"And we did end it, think of this as a casual parting. You are free to leave whenever you wish." Hannibal uttered, before turning his back to leave.

 

"That's it? I don't understand! After all these years, you hunted me down, used me and almost got me killed in more than one instance! And this is all you have to say?!" Will shouted, feeling a frustrating confusion take over him.

 

"What did you expect? I am a man of my word. If you would have remained the love stricken Will that played the piano with me . . . Nothing would have changed. You angered me Will, I want you to feel what I felt." Hannibal uttered a cold atmosphere hanging between them.

 

"I was the one betrayed not you! Do you even feel betrayed?! You are a monster, a demon wearing a meat suit!" Will felt rage. But why? He was being freed from Hannibal. Why is so intent in making himself suffer by staying with him?

 

Silence echoed through the room, as Hannibal fully stepped in the room. He face Will with ease knowing full well where Will's mind has wondered.

 

"You! What have you done to me?!" Will uttered, as he finally realized this aching feeling. This surreal contentment.

 

"I have done nothing but do your bidding. . . I have done everything you asked." Hannibal uttered, as he tried to hide his smirk.

 

"You didn't answer my question!" Will uttered, slamming his fist on the bed.

 

"Nothing. I did nothing of any sort to affect you." Hannibal finally answered.

Will shook, his fingers felt frigid like one of his episodes. It finally dawned on him, his mouth was dry and his eyes were wild.

 

"I can't! I can't! I can't! I can't —" Will said pulling his hair, before being cut off.

 

"Need me." Hannibal supplemented making Will's world stop.

 

"I hope you understand Will, from the very start you're the one who needed me. It amazes me how long it took you to realize it. I don't need you Will, but you need me." Hannibal uttered, making Will cover his ears and shake.

 

No. After all this work to be on par with Hannibal, after all the years he's spent on trying to outdo the doctor. It was all for nothing. But inside Will already knew this, he was using revenge as leverage and cloak. But today it was all over, he's the one in need, he's the one who craves. That bite mark was evidence of it, because in reality Will was never the caged bird he so thought he was. Hannibal was willing to make him escape, and yet, Will was the one who wanted to stay.


	39. Senses

"Dad what did you do to him?" Abigail demanded while barging in her foster father's walk in closet. Hannibal was by then loosening his tie, he was tired and just got back to the Palazzo.

 

"I don't know what you mean." Hannibal uttered not batting an eye. He stared at the girl, feigning innocence. But she was susceptible to this look, she mastered this manipulation years prior.

 

"The two of you disappeared for three day! Three days dad! And what does Will do when he gets back? He's been speaking to himself! He doesn't leave his room and all he says is your name. I would ask again, what did you do?" Abigail uttered, her voice echoing of demand. Hannibal stopped his movements looking at his daughter with a mix of annoyance and pride. She was good. She knew where to look for answers and she knew what Hannibal can do. It was easy to piece the events together.

 

"Have you heard of a psychologist called Donald Hebb?" Hannibal started, as he turned to his right to fetch a clean well pressed dress shirt and slacks.

 

"No." Abigail uttered, watching her father's movements.

 

"He was a pioneer of his own experiment, which centralized in sensory deprivation. To which the results concluded, that in a span of less than a week a patient can reach an absolute state of suggestiveness. Another psychologist also suggested that in this state the patient is viable for mental reprogramming." Hannibal explained flatly and undisturbed.

 

"You manipulated him." The teen said stunned.

 

"Yes. Just like your own failed attempt in manipulation, but in my case it was successful." Hannibal uttered, paying the girl's fearful look no mind.

 

"What did you suggest?!" Abigail said outrage lacing her words, as Hannibal faced Abigail without a flinch. He placed a hand loosely around her neck, giving it a bracing press. It wasn't harmful enough to make Abigail feel threatened, but it was a warning of what he can do in his desperation or boredom.

 

"That he . . . Is infatuated with my being. His perception of reality has been broken, by now he may have felt or see that we are engaging in an affair. It was an easy task to make him stay." Hannibal stated, flaunting his unethical ways.

 

"What your saying is whatever he feels, whatever he sees or even hear or touch . . . It's all in his head. . . " the teen uttered, her hands fisting in her dress.

 

"You broke him! You took the only thing left in his identity! Yo—you took his own will out of him. He's a shell!" Abigail shouted, as she moved away from the other's reach. Making the teen feel the wall hit her back.

 

"He was broken from the start! I only used it to my advantage, I taught you better than to question me." Hannibal retorted, stepping in her zone.

 

The two were mere inches from each other. Abigail knew this was a losing fight, and she has to agree with Hannibal weather she likes it or not. She gave him a curt nodded, before hanging her head low.

 

"I will cook breakfast. Set the table. After, I shall talk to Will." Hannibal ordered making the younger one nod again.

 

"Dad . . . I have to ask. Why are you so . . . Addicted to keeping Will? He isn't the only brilliant mind in the world, he isn't even the most stable. So why go to such lengths for one man?" Abigail uttered . . . Pressing her lips in anticipation.

 

"Because out of all the beautiful creatures in God's creation, the most beautiful would always be the most unique and defiled figure. "Hannibal uttered, a wicked smile place on his lips.

 

"I didn't even know you believe in God." Abigail replied, as she slowly turned the doorknob.

 

"I don't believe in one. That is why I took it upon myself, to create a wonderful creature that would be in par with me." Hannibal uttered.

 

"You see yourself as God." The teen whispered to herself, slowly the other's twisted perspective. She turned the knob to open the door and walked out.

 

There she saw Will sleeping on Hannibal's bed, panting, cursing and twisting from a metaphysical grip. His sweat trickled down his bare body, making Abigail pity the man. Will seemed to be chained, what he sees or what he think his senses feel are all wrong.

 

'Dad would be the death of him.' The teen thought, as she tried to rip her eyes off of the said figures predicament.

 

But she knew better than help Will. From her last statement alone, she knew that if she disobeyed it would be her death. Hannibal saw himself as a God, who is tipping the balance of life and death. He chooses who lives and who dies.

 

Hannibal is the modern chameleon. He could blend in or stand out depending on his own accord. He has connections, power and impenetrability. Abigail knew she was powerless against all that and the man himself. All Abigail could do now is hope for the best, and help Will as much as she can.

 


	40. penance of an angel

I'm back after . . . maybe a month of not updating sorry ahahhaha

anyway as usual enjoy :)

____________________________________________________________________________________

"Will come with me." The teen whispered solemnly, while she crept in what was formerly Hannibal's room.

Her eyes gazed over the man. His eyes misty, body motionless, as his lips shut in a singular line. His mussed hair heavy, as it was dampened by sweat.

Abigail tried her best to conjure a response from her other father, receiving nothing. He was dead. At least inside.

Will was now an empty blank shell, no bodily scars but riddled with all the traumatic mental scars that may categorize his silent insanity. A fall to a weighing abyss. He was like a doll, propped and played by a stronger being.

The girl shook him to proper consciousness, she stilled his head to make them see eye-to-eye. A corrupting feeling envelope the girl's inner thoughts, as her actions may result in an inevitable futility.

"Will please! Please wake up!" She begged her voice getting more desperate and strained. Will barely responded, he was still not even giving a returning glance.

'Alone' Abigail's eyes flickered as the word spun in a spiral, that echoed in her head. All she ever wanted was to be happy, to have a proper family that would never disregard her as a secondary matter.

Will was the same when he was younger, a drunk dad that was never home. But in the event that he did, he'd end up bruised in some way. Isolation being his only companion. Both of them equally broken but differently scared. Will physically, Abigail emotionally.

Abigail gradually grasped the reality that maybe, there really is no helping Will. The less optimistic thought has passed the girl multiple times, but the closure of her contribution to the incident is transcending fear.

"you can't be like this . . .I-I'm so sorry" Abigail whispered, as she pulled out a fashioned hunting knife, pointing it at the mannequinesque Will.

There is no solace to this life and so did death. But the beauty in death is the pure unadulterated bliss of release, never to return in this motionless reality. Motionless in a sense of morality and rules. They are all blocked by a named embodied entity of fear.

The teen would rather see the man die than live an empty existence. She was a skilled hunter, even before Hannibal's training. And it was all thanks to her biological father Garret Jacob Hobbs, he used the girl as bait for his numerous victim. He would strangle than gut them, dubbing the process as an honor. But Abigail didn't want that life. A life of fear of being caught. A life of empty promises of a normal life.

This was the time she first tasted the human flesh, salty and tender depending on age. The younger the softer the meat, it would always be the same for every animal. The skin would be rough and unappealing, but the muscles would be astringent. Hannibal enjoyed this fact, as he found the connection in taste, all he had to do was refine it.

Her hands shook as tears slipped from her eyes. She tried to steady her hands, placing one over the other, as she pointed the sharp end lightly at Will's torso.

"I promise to honor you, Will" she whispered. Eerily similar to Garret's words to his victims. She has long been consumed by her father's shadow.

She shut her eyes, plunging the knife drawing warm blood. She opened her eyes, to see Hannibal catching the blade with his bare hand. A linear cut carved across his palm. Abigail soon realized what had happened, and let go of the sharp object. The knife fell carelessly on the floor, blood staining the fur carpet. Her knees wobbled, making her drop to the floor.

Hannibal glared at her, eyes infuriated, offended and merciless. She tried to hobble away, her legs froze from the thought of the upcoming pain. She unsteadily reached for the door frame.

The psychiatrist shut the door closed, wedging the girl's folded fingers. Abigail screamed on top of her lungs, as the doctor picked the girl up. He threw her on the floor, smearing her with the blood from his bleeding hand. She struggled, kicking her legs to fight off the older man.

"this is how you repay me?" he said awfully calm, as he pulled the girl's brunette locks to lift her head. He covered her mouth with his bleeding hand, making her taste the iron of the essential bodily substance, while muffling her distressed screams.

"look at him . I said look at him!" Hannibal ordered as he turned her neck to view the human doll. She shook her head in retaliation. She doesn't want to watch. She couldn't watch.

"you did this. Its your fault Abigail." Hannibal soothed her creeping thoughts. Hannibal reached for the reached knife and slowly pointed it at the girl's throat.

"shhh" the doctor whispered, as the cold metal ran across the girl's throat.

The blood gushed, washing Will with red pigment. A slight taint of iron flavoring his lips. Will unexpectedly moved his head, turning. He looked at Hannibal absently, before a smile crept on his lips. Will stretched, his body before walking to Hannibal's side.

"did you make sure she'll live?" Will queried as he shuffled in his closet for a new set of clothes.

"yes, well the incision is surgical. She'll live if he receives aid in the next three hours." Hannibal narrated, as he smeared his blood across the room to illustrate a struggle.

"hand please" the doctor courteously asked Will. Which in return the man gave willingly. Hannibal ran the bloody knife across Will's hand, drawing blood. Will splattered the substance around the room and the vicinity.

"we have exactly two hours and forty one minutes to escape and call for Abigail's assistance. I hope you are ready." Hannibal added, making Will nod. A smile on his face, twisted.

"but the escape is part of the fun." Will uttered, as he watched Abigail's incapacitated body.


	41. the edge

"Welcome agent Crawford." An Italian accented man, approached the roaming FBI agent. The agent was tired, bags under his becoming more prominent than before. His hair slightly peppered with white hairs.

He's aged since Will has truly been Will, he's become slightly limp from an accident on field. Which caused him to stop continuing his work on field, leaving the job quite dull.

Jack tipped his hat the greeting, he put out and offered his hand to the Italian, who took it gratefully.

"Inspector Rinaldo Pazzi." Jack stated, getting a single nod as a response. Inspector Pazzi silently guided Jack to the door of the Palazzo's penthouse.

The smell of drying blood, flowers and the summer air. The penthouse was littered with specks of blood scattered everywhere, streaks painted the walls rigidly.

"What's the present situation?" Jack queried as he noticed blood tainted almost all surfaces of the penthouse. He opted to avoid compromising evidence, which was a hard task considering the venue's state.

"Blood is everywhere, and foreign hair samples were found around that were of white origins. Some identifiable hair and blood samples were of the missing Doctor Hannibal Lecter, a Lithuanian national.

Abigail Lecter, Hannibal Lecter's adopted daughter and . . . Will Graham, former FBI profiler, who was presumably dead." Pazzi stated. The inspector observed the agents reaction finding hints of telltale, it wouldn't be surprising that out of all the people in the world Jack would know if Will Graham was truly alive.

Jack stop in his tracks, he gave Pazzi a long unsure look. This was not the news he was expecting. Will was long dead. He can't be alive, that must be a mistake. Jack mourned for him, he was like a friend, brother and son to him. One of the few people he considered as family. And he's gone, just like Bella.

"Actually that is why interpol wanted to coordinate with the FBI. Will Graham is quite a well known character among the international government sectors, an his disappearance and death is quite intriguing." Pazzi added, making Jack even more puzzled. Why would interpol be interested in Will? A single profiler in the Baltimore area.

"What do you mean intrigued?" Jack uttered more stern than intended. His face in scowl, taking the inspector's statement in offence.

"Not to offend, but Will Graham's case is quite special. He was centred around a series of serial murders, with what your department presumes as two separate killers. Then he disappeared and was again, presumably dead. . ." Pazzi stated.

The inspector fell silent for a moment, he carefully inspected his surroundings. He gave a lengthy sigh, before leading the head agent to a much more private area of the penthouse.

"But that wasn't exactly the reason for interpol's interest in the FBI agent. It's more of his companion. . . " Pazzi whispered to Jack, who looked more quizzical than before. His eyes plastered on the inspector, gesturing to elaborate.

"Doctor Hannibal Lecter. He is the target. We have reason to believe he is . . . A serial killer, who killed in a span of two decades. He was known as Il Monstro, a highly dangerous, educated and cannibalistic killer." Pazzi added, making Jack shake his head in denial.

"That's wrong . . . Hannibal couldn't do that. I've known the man for years, the only thing he hates is bad tastes." Jack defended his friend and colleague, trying to justify his innocence.

"You don't understand. . . I know that face too well. He destroyed my career Agent Crawford!" Pazzi said sternly, a he pulled out an aged photo of an eerily young Hannibal Lecter.

Baring a parted quiff and a clean youthful face, it was obviously the doctor without a doubt. Time has been kind to the psychiatrist, with only a few lines justifying his true age.

"He was in his late teens and early twenties when this photo circulated. No European judge would go up against him, he is from an old Lithuanian bloodline close to royalty. People thought I was crazy! This time . . . This time I—" Pazzi reiterated, his deranged ranting making the FBI agent take a step back and review what he said.

"Your previous mistakes don't justify your claim. Can we please concentrate on the matter at hand? " Jack coldly stated, as he walked in the master bedroom where the victim, a young Abigail Lecter was found hours prior.

He refused to believe the inspector's false claims. It wasn't his place to force trust. He barely knew the man, in contrast to Hannibal that he's known for years.

Hannibal has been a shoulder to lean on, in the event of Will and Bella's death. His therapies were effective, much more than he expected. Hannibal helped him grieve and let go of the ones that would never comeback.

Jack left Pazzi's side and called for a vibrant lab rat, Antonio Vargas, of the Florence forensics team to brief him on the findings on the room.

Defeated, Rinaldo listened to a report he heard an hour prior to Jack's arrival. He approached the agent cautiously, knowing that if he stepped out of line again the US-Italian investigative cooperation may end.

"It seems like there was a struggle, hand prints that slid across the wall indicate that the victim tried to fight off the assailant.

There are impressions left on the bed, indicating someone has been sitting on the left side of the bed for an extended period of time. " Vargas started, as she pointed his gloved index finger at the bodily indent on the bed. It still had stains of what seemed to be sweat and the shuffled duvet piled at the edge of the bed.

"But there are odd blood patterns that is inconsistent with the struggle theory. The directions of the splatters are too calm. The theory about the struggle is . . . A bit off. Unless there are two crimes. One, the struggle pattern, after further DNA testing is from Hannibal Lecter. The calm drips is from a man named William Graham. This mea—" Vargas added, as he directed Jack to an instrument that had a steel base and red strings pinning every blood spatter, angling the source.

"That its either Will kidnapped Hannibal or Will attacked Hannibal." Jack supplemented, crushing Pazzi's accusation internally.


	42. Hobbs

"I have to see Abigail Lecter!" Jack demanded the nurse on the receiving desk.

He slammed his fist on the table, as the Italian nurse tried to calm him. He's spent the whole afternoon trying to gain passage, but no one would. The nurse influent in English, babbled in straight Italian. The FBI agent could only decipher a few key words, it was quite a spectacle to see.

Abigail was still incapacitated, her wound was healing quite well, according to Doctor Hector De los Santos. The only doctor who was kind enough to, spare him a few English words.

That's when Inspector Pazzi, with Vargas in tow came to retrieve Jack back. They bargained with Jack with the promise of getting a pass to let him see the girl tomorrow. It worked.

They headed to the Interpol's branch office, to sit Jack down and talk about the Italian police's new findings. The interpol's and Italian police's joint efforts was not new, but extremely suspicious.

It was well known that interpol wasn't the most cooperative bunch. And to say they asked the police for help. . . It significantly shows their utter desperation.

They entered the conference room of the building, it was sound proof and enclosed. Thick glass panelled every corner, with grey curtains dividing them from the rest of the offices. There was a long table that was screwed to the floor, and corporate chairs lined all its sides. On top of the table was a dossier enveloped in a manila folder. 

"We need to talk about the girl agent Crowford." Pazzi started, as he seated himself across Jack, and besides Vargas.

"Yes we do, I need to see her condition. Knowing Will, he might come back and kidnap Abigail. I can't stand for that. Not again." Jack said firmly, a serious expression placed on his face.

The two Italian agents looked at each other, with a look that Jack couldn't decipher. It was between pitiful and distraught.

"That's the point agent Crawford, we want to talk about how Abigail is connected to Hannibal Lecter" Vargas stated, his green orbs focused on Jack.

"What about it?" Jack queried, as he stood up from his seat.

"Abigail is not, Hannibal Lecter's child." Vargas uttered, pausing in thought on how to continue on the conversation.

"There was never an existing Abigail Lecter. The documents and name just popped up five years ago." Pazzi extended, as he slid the dossier in front of Jack.

Jack promptly skimmed through the contents of the folder. It had all the falsified documents of the identity of Abigail Lecter. There is no Abigail Lecter.

"Then who is she?" The agent queried, his puzzled expression a tell tail sign of disbelief and confusion. Again the two inspectors shared a glance, as if trying to give a telepathic message to one another.

"I thought you'd remember her. . . Her real name is Abigail Hobbs, daughter of G—" Pazzi said his voice being drowned out by Jack's thoughts, that's when the agent cut Pazzi off.

"Garret Jacob Hobbs. I know." Jack said simply, his lips tightened, pressing in a thin line.

The ghost of Garret Jacob Hobbs, once again haunts. Jack will never forget the man, he held a special spot in Jack's memory as one of the most gruesome killers in his area.

The man was . . . Vile, but in his own eyes he was just. Just in a sense of mercy, but that is nothing but a false truth.

"I don't think, that doctor Lecter's connection to Abigail Hobbs is mere coincidence." Vargas initiated the thought, internally provoking the agent's protective counters.  

"How many times do I have to tell you, Hannibal is innocent!" Jack rebuttal at the hints. Refusing the insisted thought.

"Why are you so persistent in you trust and loyalty to a man, you're don't truly know?!" Pazzi snapped back.

"Because I know him! He save me!" Jack shouted back, as rancid memories flew in him.

"From who?" Vargas asked rhetorically, expecting no answer.

"Myself." Jack replied, silencing the other figures. He prepared for his departure, the size of his back descending from view. 

"Do not be a fool Jack! Il Monstro has been playing us! Playing you!" Pazzi left it at that final statement, saying nothing more to sway the FBI agent's belief.


	43. Primal

  
"I need him killed!" The profiler spat, as he ran a hand through his curly locks.

He paced his walk back and forth on the mosaic designed marble floors, as large pillars connecting the floor to the painted ceiling. The painting was intricate and beautiful, the style in a renaissance theme of God and man. It reflected the holy sanctity of the influence of religion in the region. The arches supporting the  basking door curved to perfection.

The estate had a rustic feel. A complete image of the renaissance period, reflecting the style and elegance of the time. It was a jaw dropping display, with auburn curtains touching the ceiling to floor. A large Swarovski crystal chandelier, illuminating the middle of what previously was the ball room.

The chandelier had a gothic Germanic influence, with the casting of the iron base. Their was also nordic influences scattering the estate. From the viking paintings to taste of fur adorning the floor.

"A hound will always follow a trail, and so does he. He will follow our trap, without a doubt. Your much more impulsive now than before, patience is what you need." The psychiatrist uttered, his eyes distant and disconcerted.

Will lifted his hand aiming to strike at Hannibal's face, he was ready to bring forth the meaning to impulsivity. But speedy reflexes saved the doctor by catching the hand mid flight. Hannibal gripped Will's wrist, tightening it bit by bit, making Will feel Hannibal's strength.

Hannibal pulled Will closer, pressing his other arm on the profiler's lumbar to disarm his movements, constricting space. The position was close to an image of a tight embrace, chest to chest pressed leave no room. Hannibal tilted his head to whisper to the other's ear, mimicking a lullaby of sweet threat.

"Try to strike me again, you will wake up in screams. Your hand will be served to you in a silver platter, and you will eat it. You know best, when it comes to my capabilities." Hannibal whispered, making Will look at him mockingly with a peevish smile.

"such an empty threat doctor Lecter. You can't harm me even if you try." Will uttered confidently, making the doctor glare.

Hannibal moved back, letting Will go out of his grip. He took a passing glance at his liaison, a frown marking his face. A spark of pain dawned on Will's cheek, a slight reddening blushing.

"You are not my weakness, you are my toy. I have the choice to throw you away or keep you." Hannibal replied, lips pressed in a straight line.

"And what exactly is the reason for my survival?" Will said playfully, as he stepped closer to his abuser.

"Why do you persistently use your tactical seduction?" Hannibal replied with another question.

"Because I need you. And whats wrong with a little fun in this god forsaken prison you call home." The profiler said as he placed one hand on Hannibal's cheek in a gentle caress.

"What exactly do you want from me, Will?" Hannibal queried, as he pulled the hand way from his cheek.

"What kind of villain would impart his plans to the victim?" Will said giving Hannibal a playful grin.

"Then my answer is similar to yours. Only I don't find you a victim" Hannibal answered, as he reciprocated the intensity of the stare.

"Then what am I? We always spiral around that topic. What exactly am I? I am not a prisoner, obviously. I am not your friend, we are far too sobered from that lie. So what is my relationship with you?" Will tilted his head mockingly, crossing his arms. He threw his weight on holstered carved chair, a wooden long table marking the centred of the room.

Varnished evenly, the chair was an antique. Carved with an image of sword lilies, in the middle of blooming.

Will knew what they were to each other. They were like suffocating oxygen, fresh yet deadly. That is the only description worthy of their need for each other.

"We are . . . " Hannibal started, a sweetness lacing his voice. But Will cut through, pacing his speech.

"You love me don't you? An obsession elevated to love, or are you just obsessed?" Will spoke sultry and mocking, no sign of cracking this hardened façade of a playful scholar.

"I see you've been speaking to Bedelia, and I see that she has influenced you." Hannibal replied, as he seated himself on a duplicate of Will's chair.

"Is she wrong?" Will uttered curiously, the pending answer was what he was waiting for. More than four years of pure dedication, to the man. Fending this feeling as 'anger' or 'revenge', but he is an addicting presence.

"No" Hannibal said simply, making Will's restrains snap off.

Will stood up startling Hannibal to replicate the action. The profiler marched in front of Hannibal and pulled the taller man down to meet his lips.

The action rabid, needy and a spontaneous. Hannibal reacted the same, like a thirst being quenched by fresh water. Will pressed himself closer, wrapping his arms around the doctor's neck.

The two parted, with a measurable amount of space inching them. The heat of their breath being passed to the other. Fiery maroon orbs, were extinguished by icy blues. Both pupils dilating with a chilling want.

"You are just like any man after all, following the three primal needs" Will uttered, as he leaned on the crook of the doctor's neck.

"And what is that?" Hannibal played, he knew full well the answers, but he preferred to hear Will's unique tone.

"Food, shelter and sex" Will answered smoothly, as he bared his teeth and lightly grazed the doctor's skin.

"And you, yourself are a man." Hannibal forced a raspy voice, as he inhaled the unique scent of Will.


	44. Je Crois

Sorry lovelies, my schedule has been hacked up for the past two months or so, with midterm, turn paper, projects and etc.

My thesis was rejected so I had to re do it again, so this would be my only time to give you an update!

Read and enjoy as usual XD

\----------------------------------------------

 

Bedelia lingered as Pazzi sat across from her, handing the standard water bottle. She was found in one of Hannibal's properties, after Interpol gave them the go signal to inspect all the man's property shares and land.

The interrogation has been going on for four hours, the man tirelessly tried to itch this faux Lydia Fell to spill what she knows. But the well aware Bedelia fronted her false identity, albeit without cracking.

"Who are you?" Pazzi started again, repeating the question for the tenth time.

"I've told you already! I am Lydia Fell, my husband is a curator named Roman, we liv—" Pazzi cut off her rambling, an unsatisfied look etched clearly on his face.

"Yes–yes, we know of your . . . 'Husband'" Pazzi says a bit irritated. He wasn't settled with the consistency of the answers. All too well practiced and clean.

"I don't understand what you want with me and my husband?" Bedelia uttered, twisting the bottles cap. 

In all honesty, Bedelia never appreciated the significance of bottle water. She's prefer more refinement in the offered beverage, but right now she is in position to complain.

"We just need to ask your husband a few questions. So, where is he? " Pazzi played along, unsure of how to cope and take Bedelia's trust. But alas their game has already been planned, along with a very convincing situation.

Bedelia already concocted a perfect irrefutable claim of innocence, that she will and has been fighting for. From the story to the process of how the situation progressed it was all practiced and fairly well acted.

But only Pazzi seems to feel the audacious improbability of Bedelia's situation. His first hint being that she was alive. Yes, in more than one occasion one of Hannibal's victims live, but never this long. Hannibal liked to pick on his food, shifting it, torturing it and seeing it through as a proper entertainment before sautéing it in a pan.

His second hint being that she was intelligent, more than most. She was the type of manipulative woman that watches the world burn from a far, creeping at every opportunity to raise. And to fall victim to Hannibal's charms, was equally puzzling and unlikely.

"I don't know, he is busy curating in Italy. . . H-he usually comes home one a month." Every lie stitched perfectly, even adding a believable stutter. Bedelia worked it into Pazzi's mide that her innocence on this case was still intact.

Pazzi looked at the two way mirror that stood on the grey wall, perfectly reflecting the swinging light, while Agents Vargas, Crawford and Director Seydoux watched. 

Director Marie Ella Seydoux, is the current director of the French interpol branch. She agreed to coordinate with the Italian police and even agreeing to hold the interrogation on French soil. But if Il Monstro is to be caught, the french interpol will take half the credit. It was a fairly imbalanced deal, but the desperation of the situation called for it.

Jack looked as if he's seen a ghost. The missing woman was thought to be dead for more than five years. And now to miraculously appear was both relieving yet frustrating.  

"So what are your insights on the interrogation?" Seydoux questioned, as the interrogation went on.

"I don't believe Hannibal could do this. Especially since he disappeared with a 'Will Graham' look a like. . . " Jack spat looking back at their memories with each other. Oh what a fool he was. 

"What are you implying?" The woman asked, her accent vivid in the twist of her tongue.

"It was no secret that Hannibal loved Will and vice versa. It was easy enough to comprehend, but to what extent, I don't know." Jack muttered, taking the director's curiosity as a sign of a probable alliance.

The woman nodded taking all the information in. She went over to the mic and adjusted it's frequency to catch just the right dial on Pazzi's ear piece.

"Show her the photo." She said plainly, making Pazzi's eyes wonder back to the reflective glass.

He obediently pulled a rectangular picture from his dossier, sliding it across the table to Bedelia's direction.

"Do you know who this is?" Pazzi queried, as Bedelia reached forth for the photo.

Bedelia took a peek, the gloss of the photo momentarily overwhelming the patches of colours printed on the surface. She gave a soft gasp, the first sincere reaction she's ever made.

"Abigail, my dear girl! What have you done to her?! Answer me!" Bedelia's façade quickly faltered, her eyes shooting icy daggers on the inspector's director.

"We did nothing but save the girl. It is assumed that Hanni— Roman Fell did this with an accomplice. Hugh Solomon." Pazzi said catching himself in a moment.

Bedelia's eyes twitched, a layer of warm liquid glazing her eyes. Bedelia loved the girl, she was the few people she actually had a close, non-professional relationship with. As a psychiatrist you learn to distance yourself from other people, so to say, she actually cares for the girl is beyond the reason of humaneness or of a sense of ward. 

"He harmed her?" Her voice finally even, as she reclined. Her mask was tearing off. She needed Abigail to be ok.

"Yes, a slit throat. if we were a few minutes late, she would have died." Pazzi admitted, finally seeing his instinct to be correct.

"Give her back to me. And I'll tell you all I know." Bedelia said flatly, the momentum of the conversation turning.

"Alright, we will cut you a deal. If you answer the question correctly this time. Who are you?" Pazzi insisted.

"Bedelia du Maurier, a Baltimore Psychiatrist. 

Affiliations and patients will be undisclosed, due to a non-disclosure agreement. Do you understand stand?

I want it on write up before I state anything, as well as in clear print, that I get to have Abigail back." Bedelia uttered, purely law in nature. Making Pazzi agree.


	45. Gone girls

The last chapter of my chapter count is coming up next!

Thank you for reading my not-so-professional, not-always-updated work hahhahahahah

I have abused your patience and kindness, so I'll abuse it for one last time! 

Anyway enjoy XD  
\--------------------------------------------------

"Cazzo!" Pazzi sweared, his accent pulsing through.

"She's as sly and as smart as I remember." Jack said, proceeding to sit on the settee.

"She very well knew how to turn the situation. In a sense I like her, using her head to get what she wants, while keeping her self-preservation intact." Director Seydoux said, as she palmed armrest of her seat, finding the most comfortable position.

There was no loophole in the paper that they signed. Bedelia was very through in her document, correcting each possible loophole four times before signing the write up.

Now they have no power or right to question her further. As it turns out, the three neglected to confirm Hannibal's relationship with Bedelia. Which was in fact a psychiatrist-patient relationship. And due to the write up, they have no right to invade their personal and psychological assessments.

A smart and edgy move on Bedelia's part, but a stupid one on the other side of the team.

The interpol's legal team has been trying to find a proper hole on her iron-clad document for the pass two day, and nothing thus far. 

"If we don't find a proper hold on her, she's going out of this scot free. Not even snitching on the doctor." Jack said as an unsettling reality.

The man date by french law is three days, or the jurisdiction of the accused is gone, but liability is still secured. But due to write up, there will be no liability labelled on her, and if interpol doesn't find a breakthrough the case is off.

At that tensed moment Jack's phone rang. An unpleasant vibration rattling at his side. He excused himself from the sitting room to accept the call. He went to the placidly lit white hall, with glass panes sourcing the light.

It was a roaming number, black and only numbers plaster on the screen. He hesitantly took in the call, pressing the green phone icon.

"Crawford." His instictual response burying his discontent of the situation.

"Hello Jack." A familiarly distasteful sound. He used to know this voice as a friend, but now it has dawned on his the harsh reality. But the. Again it might be his double ganger calling.

"Solomon?" He strides the conversation carefully, playing the words.

"Yes and no. Well you see, Will Graham is back." A teasing voice, unlike Will taunted Jack.

"What do you mean?" The agent spoke warily.

"You know what it means Jack, time to tie all the loose ends. . . You and that doctor of your did this to me! You pushed me over the edge. . . It's all your fault." Will stifled a mad laugh before cracking it free.

"Where is Hannibal?!" Jack's voice raised, his fist clenching at the implication.

"He's long dead, and now I am after you. If you don't want that bitch and the little girl to be harmed. Come to me. I'll send you the details, no police or interpol" Will continued with the threat, as the image of Bedelia and Abigail popped in his head. Then as it happened, the call ended. 

The buzzing beep of the phone was left as he clutched it tight, lowering it to his side. A sense of responsibility painting his emotions. 

Even though Bedelia refused to talk, they are by law, American citizens. And so it is Jack's job to ward them as an agent. An intense series of reasoning pelted his mind. 

But as Jack drew all conclusions, but there is one last stand of hope.

Bedelia is under interpol surveillance, surely the french agents will keep the two safe.

In that moment Pazzi bursted out, running off to Jack's opposite direction. Red faced and in a hurry, ignoring the head agent.  

Jack directed a pointed look at director Seydoux. Her mount in an unpleasant straight line. All of the colour on her cheeks lost. Her face calm yet distressed. 

"their gone." In that simple sentence, the last of Jack's hope crumble amides the echoing sound patters and patters of foots steps bellowing around him.


	46. Sky fall

Yes, I am an Extreme Bond Fan! And recently, I have been addicted to Kingsmen, in short I am addicted to spy movies/shows/series. (Although not to offend anyone, Spectre was not my cup of tea. But Sky Fall was down right fantastic! (In my opinion))

(Im not really a romance kind of person) It's kind of a far cry from my books, since it paints me as a hopeless romantic (which I kind of am). Honestly I love shows featuring a witty character, a badass action sequence and a tad bit of romance.

So do you have any recommendations? please comment.

Do you guys want me to write about any pairing? Just write it up! I might write it, because I am currently running out of ideas to write about (since I base the plot depending on the pairing).

Ps. Unfortunately I WILL NOT write a sequel to this book. (After multiple dry promises of sequels, I have throughly confirmed that I suck at writing sequels). I have promised my most popular book (Silver Lining) a sequel, and lets just say it hasn't been properly updated since my last vacation.

Pps. My english has drastically improved over the last 2 years, after I moved! So thanks mum for moving us (I guess?).

Ppps. Yes, I know my english is inconsistent, I use both UK English and American English, causing some odd grammatical difference among the chapters. Majority of my spelling with S or Z is actually based on UK English, so please don't mind that.

Well anyway, It's been a lovely adventure lovelies! Enjoy XD

\-------------------------------------------------------

Jack paced his steps, crunching the dried leaves scattered beneath his feet. Sweat dripping down his chin, contrasting with the tingling chill of the European air. White powdery snow, dusted his coat. The contrasting colours of black and white, peeled through, embossing Jack's figure against the winter set background.

Jack breathed out, a burst of white smoke exhaled from his system. His pulse running high with norepinephrine. Fight or flight, very telling statement, considering this situation was consuming him.

The hormones in his brain raised, adrenaline pumped, alerting him of the pressing view he saw. Simply put, danger.

He felt the danger just by stepping into the God forsaken area. It was to say, not your average place for conducting revenge. It was a suburban landscape. Trees stalking the grounds, hiding a little glass bungalow in its middle. Light seep through the glass, making quite an evident visual of a tied up pair of females, unconscious, slumping in their wooden seats.

Even from his hidden view, Jack could tell a little strain of blood was flowing from Bedelia's forehead and Abigail's neck, possibly because of her wound being reopened.

Jack traveled for three days, following Will's instructions. Usually, going to Lithuanian from France was just a two to three hour flight. But because of Will's unending precautions, this time has been extended to three days, including a five hour hike in a mountainous area, caved in by an endless grove of pine trees, some hollowed by age and others shaking off their leaves baring their discoloured brown bodies.

The head agent had to be cautious. Caring for the weight of his footsteps, avoiding the usually satisfying crunch. He didn't want to alert the perpetrator. Not in this delicate situation.

He slowly crept closer to the window, examining the two girls even more. Bedelia seemingly unharmed, except for a head bruise and a small cut in her forehead. On the other hand, Abigail's situation felt critical, the blood from her neck flowing consistently. Her former beige bandage stained with darkening crimson liquid, slowly drying at the cold weather's persistence.

Jack wearily pulled out his gun, a .45 caliber M1 1911 hand gun, formerly FBI issued, but replaced with a far more advanced versions. The gun had a messy exit wound, resulting into either destruction of evidence or a traumatic sight to civilians. The diameter of the wound would always extend from five to ten sizes bigger the the entrance wound, depending upon the shooter's distance. A messy weapon for a messy job, they say.

But Jack found the gun endearing, it was a reminder that time replaced things. Time changes things, the old replace with the new. He also holds it as a quick reminder of his time in the force. They aged at the same time, as the gun was given to him when he first entered the force.

The agent, pushed his back against the wall, securing that at least only his front is exposed to a sudden attack. He wearily opened the door, beginning protocol. Search and clear, before rescue and retrieval.

He pointed the gun in front, slowly entering the vicinity. He snooped around, looking for the perpetrator. Will. But the house was fairly empty, containing only the two girls, their chairs, a table and a clock sitting right in front of the two unconscious victims.

Finding no possible danger in sight, Jack hurriedly checked on the two victims. Both were thankfully breathing, even if it was fairly shallow. But their skin were cold, as if they stayed in the cold hours on end. That situation wasn't far from a myriad of possibilities, and that is what he is afraid of. Possibilities.

Jack grew his career by basing off on the predictability of criminals, how they think, feel and process things around them. With Will it became plainly easier and convenient. But now that is what worries him. Will is a possible combination of all the criminals he had investigated, meaning predictability is a great problem. Jack has no idea what pawn the man would sacrifice in this deathly chess game.

Both of them already running out of pawns, leaving two kings and the sixteen move rule does not apply. There will never be a draw, there could only be one winner, and both are planning to win the game no matter the costs. Moving over and over the metaphysical board trying to our wit each other's moves.

Jack released the two's bounds, starting with Bedelia's, before moving on to Abigail's. The rope knotted tightly, made the time ticking against them. When released, the red marks caused by the tightened rope, bruised their wrists and ankles. It looked painful and contorting in their stiff position. The oxymoronic though passed Jack's mind, before being alert to more pressing matters. Abigail.

Jack tried to aid her wound, tearing a piece of his cloth to tie it around Abigail's neck, but not tight enough to suffocate. This first aid style helped add pressure to wound.

He felt the urgency of the matter, but he couldn't rescue two unconscious people, going through a five hour trek. He knew his only chance of escaping is by waking up Bedelia.

He pressed his hand on her chin, lifting it, before lightly slapping her. Chanting 'wake up'. It wasn't working. This aggravated Jack even more than the tense atmosphere around the house, it had a sense of danger enveloping the area. Jack with no other choice but to look for another way.

He opened cup boards, cabinets and doors, trying to find anything to use. Nothing. The place was completely void of anything partially useful in this operation. But one thing did catch his attention, the sound of leaking water dripping to the sink. There was water available. Good.

Jack shed off his jacket, soaking it, before bringing it into what was supposed to be living room, if it wasn't so null of furnishings. He kneeled in front of Bedelia, gently dabbing her face with the wet cloth.

A groan escaped her lips, a first reaction finally being conjured. It was giving Jack hope, that maybe they will get out of here unharmed. At least not adding anymore injuries to the already injured and possibly traumatised women.

Her eyes fluttered, slowly opening. A dazed look casted upon Jack's hopeful one. Her eyes widened, as if the realisation of the situation dawned on her. Her lips quivered, before releasing a bloodcurdling scream.

The sudden sound of footsteps plagued the outside of the house. Red dots were directed at Jack's body. ' 'Snipers' , the head agent immediately thought.

A familiar woman walked in the frontline if fire, a megaphone at hand. Her black coat reflecting upon her grim expression.

"Jack Crawford put your hands behind your head and surrender the victims now!" She screamed, voice too serious and accent thick.

The accusation gradually sunk in to Jack's consciousness. He was the perpetrator? Surely Maria didn't believe this; But she did.

"I am not the kidnapper! I'm here to rescue them!" Jack shouted in retaliation.

Director Seydoux, silently organised her mental faculties. She then whispered to the man at her right, nodding in agreement to her suggestion.

"If what your saying is true, then please . . . Please step out if the house and explain the situation peacefully." She said through the echoing contraption, called the megaphone.

Jack hesitated, but complied. 'I could fix this mess, I just need to explain.' He thought, before stepping out. A barrage of interpol agents, were still directing their guns into his direction. A threatening sight, no matter how experienced you are in the field.

"Drop your weapon now!" He did. The gun flopped into the thin mount of snow.

Jack was pushed to his knees, a pair of handcuffs restraining him.

***

"It wasn't me! I swear! We are being played Maria and you know it!" Jack reasoned and pleaded but nothing moved the director.

"It was Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter! Will called me! Please you have to believe me!" Jack added, his hands as frigid as Will's when he first suggested Hannibal Lecter as a psychiatrist. Oh how he regretted it now.

Maria gave Jack a pitiful look, before tapping the two way mirror. Minutes later, Pazzi entered the room. A disappointed and betrayed expression marked his face.

"I trusted you! You monster! Your the one who I should have been hunting!" Pazzi said, lunging at Jack, only to be held back by Maria.

"It was Hannibal and Will! I swear! I know it's them! You just have to find the right evidence!" Jack reasoned once more, but again it fell on deaf ears.

"Jack, Will has been dead for five years. . . And the horribly decayed body of Hannibal Lecter has been found . . . In your property in Baltimore." Maria explained, drawing the unbelievable.

"Hannibal Lecter has been dead for an estimated three months, the same exact time of his disappearance." Pazzi expounded.

"I DID'NT KILL HIM! IT WAS WILL HE TOLD ME HE DID!" Jack said struggling from his seat, the dangling chains ringed loud, as it hit the metal table.

"Jack, your the only one with motive to kill him. . . The doctor was well received in the FBI, but according to Pazzi you were suspicious of Doctor Lecter's presence." Maria spoke in such a cold unrecognisable way, even with the little time they spent each other as a team, Jack knew that this was not Maria. At least not the real her.

"But Pazzi had motive too! Don't throw me under the bus, just to save your ass!" Jack said, it was his turn to try to lunge at Pazzi, but was obviously restricted by the chains in his wrists. An impulsive move, yes, but the pools of mixed emotions mixed into an unprecedented out burst.

"Yes, I know. But he had a solid alibi. You on the other hand don't. No one can verify that you were alone last August 20. . . Jack this is a solid case. You can't even get a plea deal out if this." Maria said, her voice softening a bit.

"But that's circumstantial evidence!" Jack convulsed his answer, making his slightly agitated voice crack.

"True." Maria's voice added with a hint of amusement at the crack of her prey's voice.

"but that doesn't excuse the forensics evidence suggesting that the gun that hit the two victims, Bedelia du Maurier and Abigail Hobbs, unconscious, was a M1 1911. DNA evidence suggest that the victims blood were present on the butt of your gun, your prints were the only ones present on the victims and items in the crime scene. . . A testimony from Bedelia du Maurier is chaining you down, Jack. . . It's over." Maria narrated, avoiding the technicalities.

"There is no getting out of this. We saw you trying to strangle Abigail Hobbs with a cloth. Jack, that is concrete evidence!" Pazzi shouted, infuriated.

"I was trying to stop the bleeding!" Jack said, slamming his fists on the table. Silent tension hung in between them.

"Well your 'helping' was uncalled for. She was suffocating!" Pazzi retorted, slamming his own hand on the cold metal table.

"Then who kidnapped the girls?!" Jack exclaimed, disbelief staining his words thickly.

"You did Jack. We inspected your phone, according to you, you received a call and a text message instructing you on what to do, and where to find the girls. . . But according to phone records there was no such thing. You lied to us, Jack. Your lying to yourself." Maria uttered bitterly before standing and strutting out the interrogation room.

Jack felt his veins pop, blood rushing underneath his skin, pulsing even faster then ever. He was angry. This was all staged, a ploy for revenge.

***

"Agent Crawford." An irritatingly familiar voice called for him. The blond walked to him, her head wound was now healed, but a discoloured bruise still mark the event that happened a few weeks ago.

"I am no longer an agent, Bedelia. You should've known that, considering your the reason for me being locked up here" Jack spoke bitterly everything on him were all circumstantial evidence, except for Bedelia's incriminating statement, that he . . . Kidnapped the two women in account for a psychological problem. He was seeing the dead.

A grimice scared Jack's formerly kind face, shocking his caretaker. Jack hasn't spoke since he entered the psychiatric ward. In those weeks, he gradually accepted that maybe that call and the voice that he heard was a fragment of his imagination. A personified hope if his long dead friend.

"Why have you come here?" Jack added, as Bedelia sat opposite to him, in this dimly lit hospital-esque room.

"I wanted to give you a parting gift before I leave." Bedelia said, before leaning for a whisper.

The caretaker was about to stop her, when Bedelia turned and gave him a glare. Stopping the caretaker, the icy look from a powerful looking women was enough to freeze the man of his movements.

"You were right all along. Never believe they are truly gone. . . They never are." Bedelia whispered.

She slipped a letter on to Jack's direction, before retreating to her seat, and hurriedly leaving.

Silence.

But the silence didn't stay for long, as Jack bursted into rage. Throwing the chairs and breaking them, his caretaker tried to restrain him, but he was strong, and trained. Unstoppable in his fit if rage.

Was he being played with again? Now that he was slowly reconciling with his self.

Jack opened the letter, tearing the paper's envelope open. And the letter simply stated:

'You lose, Jack'  
— W. G.

It was Will. He knew it. But the hand writing was familiarly, Hannibal's. He had been played.

Jack was stuck there for the rest of his life, because of them. And no one would believe him. No one would believe that 'they' are still alive, ready to watch him be tormented by society, as an agent who lost his sanity over the dead.


	47. Real Epilogue

"We won the game." Hannibal announced, as he held the black king chess piece, inspecting it's intricate details. An old man with dead eyes, looked back at Hannibal, it looked just like Jack's tarnished soul.

"Yes we have . . . But how did you pull off the evidence against Jack? There was nothing incriminating about the evidences that could ever point to him." Will wondered, as he moved his white pawn one step across, blocking Hannibal's previous check.

"We all need friends, Will. I offered you my friendship, and so did she." Hannibal critically replied, whilst moving his rook.

Will did not push any further. He was satisfied with that. Asking anymore questions would lead to a distasteful event or punishment. He knew. Will was sure of it.

Will just leaned back on the upholstered seat, finding the most comfortable position. The echoing voice of Abigail's laughter was bouncing off the walls.

It's been a month after that well orchestrated event passed. Abigail awakened and was given to Bedelia, who in turn gave the teen to Hannibal, before she disappeared once more.

To be frank finding Bedelia would never be a problem. It never was, and never will be. But her usefulness has lost touch the moment she gave Jack that daunting letter. It would just be a matter of convenience, if he would ever call for Bedelia's services again.

Hannibal has been happily 'tying up other loose ends', since Jack's conviction to the Psychiatric incarceration. Silencing those who has loose mouths, gave Hannibal a rewarding feeling.

Everything was well orchestrated, well planned from the start. Convincing Will to join the plan was fairly easy enough, knowing Will had untapped feelings for the doctor. With was evidently reciprocated by Hannibal.

Will's presence as Hugh Solomon was greatly unplanned, but after their reunion at dinner. Hannibal knew how to play his cards. Recreating the night Will first came into Hannibal's home. An significantly important sign of intimacy.

With Will having a new identity, it was all an easy play. Erasing that fake existence has proven to be quite the challenge. But Hannibal being Hannibal who used . . . Questionable ways to have the leverage.

Will was always the heart, while Hannibal was the mind. It was balance. Each were satisfied with what has become of them.

There was tension felt between Abigail and Hannibal has slowly been pacified after discovering the Will was alive and well, living under Hannibal's protection. The relationship between parent and child gradually renewed. It would never be the same as before, but they are family. The three of them know that.

Abigail's wish for a family has been fulfilled, disregarding the underhanded methods. A dysfunctional family. A family who understands their individual twisted needs and thirst for pain.

This is their design.

**\----------------------------------------------------------**

**Yes we are done!**

**Anyway just a quick 10 infos (as a parting gift to my dear readers):**

**1) the 'her' that Hannibal is referring to is Maria Ella Seydoux. If you read back to chapter 24, she was the french contact.**

**Originally I wanted to write a chapter about it, but I need to write a new book for the year. So because of a self inflicted deadline, I couldn't explain everything.**

**Sorry!**

**2) if your wondering when the plan actually started, go back to chapter 29. Yes guys I did it, I orchestrated everything starting on that chapter.**

**I should be embarrassed that I am referencing my own book. But I made it so elaborate and ambiguous so I can execute this properly.**

***sighs* if only I was that well orchestrated with my papers, maybe my updating wouldn't have taken this long.**

**3) originally I wanted people to know where Bedelia ended up, but I think it's better that it's ambiguous.**

**After all I wanted to imply she wasn't really a whole hearted participant of 'the game'.**

**4) Beverly became the new Head Agent of the FBI, Baltimore branch.**

**Not surprising though, considering if she wasn't the one, then the next option would be Brian or Jimmy. . . I don't think that's a good thing. Even if they are competent.**

**5) the two ( Hannibal and Will) got married. (Just imagine how that went. . . Human meat as a catering).**

**They got married in France of course, because I love France no matter how mainstream it sounds.**

**6) I didn't kill Jack for one sole reason. . . Will wanted Jack to suffer, and killing him would be too easy. "There is no fun in a dead victim. I want him to squirm and feel the insanity creeping in, destroying what you think you know." — Will Graham. 2k16**

**7) Will and Hannibal never actually admitted ( said) their love for each other, and they never will. That's kinda beautiful to me. They don't need words to express their obsession.**

**If you're going to cite chapter 43. They didn't technically say "I love you" to each other. It's more of a, "I know you love me, so lets cut the crap and get on with it", kind of thing. Yes, this is one of my most in eloquent moments, forgive me.**

**8) Brian did get married to Merriam. And Jimmy was the best man (as expected).**

**9) Alana found herself a wife in the form of Margot Verger.**

**After accidentally stumbling across a horrific scene (where Mason Verger was abusing Margot). Alana kills him, (with Margot). But first collecting the . . . *ehem* *cough* . . . That they needed to make a baby. ( basically following Fuller's plot line only without Hannibal's presence).**

**10) The murder family is now living in Poland.**

**Murders and missing persons have becoming quite frequent in Poland. . . I wonder why? *wink-wink***

**"Lust is Love for the body,  
Love is Lust for the spirit."  
— ECK ( aka me hahhahaha** )


End file.
